


Bringing the Dawn

by BonnieScotty



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Allyria Dayne - Freeform, Arthur Dayne - Freeform, Aurane Waters - Freeform, Dragonlord Jon Snow, Edric Dayne - Freeform, Garlan Tyrell - Freeform, Howland Reed - Freeform, Jon Snow is a Targaryen, Jon has dragons, Jon is not called Aegon, Jyana Reed - Freeform, King Jon Snow, Meera Reed - Freeform, Monford Velaryon - Freeform, More tags to be added, Multi, R Plus L Equals J, Targaryen Restoration, Varys - Freeform, Wylla - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-29
Updated: 2021-02-27
Packaged: 2021-03-01 04:54:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 25
Words: 166,151
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23379433
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BonnieScotty/pseuds/BonnieScotty
Summary: Lyanna Stark made her elder brother promise to keep her son a secret to save his life from the hands of Robert Baratheon. However, she asked him that he be made aware when he turns sixteen of the truth. With his world turned upside down along with all of the Stark's, how will this change forthcoming events?
Relationships: Catelyn Stark/Ned Stark, Cersei Lannister/Jaime Lannister, Joffrey Baratheon/Sansa Stark, Jon Arryn/Lysa Tully Arryn, Lyanna Stark/Rhaegar Targaryen, More pairings to be added - Relationship, Robert Baratheon/Cersei Lannister
Comments: 211
Kudos: 470





	1. Chapter 1

"Promise me, Ned. Promise me you'll keep him safe. If Robert finds out, he will kill him. You know he will. Promise me."

Those words haunted Eddard Stark from the moment they left his younger sister's mouth. Her tears that were rapidly falling, to the way she was holding the babe tight to her chest still covered in blood, and especially the blood gushing out of her which would soon take her life. He thought the predicament through, trying to find a way he could keep the babe hidden from her betrothed and his best friend. 

"Ned, promise me. Please. I need to know he's in good hands."

Hesitating, he nodded his head and spoke those two words back to her. Hesitantly, she handed the new-born to him who immediately whined at not being in the warm embrace of his dying mother anymore.

"His name is Jaeron Targaryen. Rhaegar was certain he would be a girl and we would call her Visenya. But after getting it through his head that he may be a boy, we decided on a name that is of Valyrian origins, but there's been no other ruler by said name. A new start."

Targaryen. Not Sand. Targaryen. His beloved sister was not kidnapped. He always had a feeling there was more to it than what was let on, but he didn't want to dishonour his sister and enrage Robert Baratheon as the stag had a temper that even the Mad King couldn't rival. Lyanna Targaryen. It suited her. As he looked down at the babe to see the pale lilac eyes which seemed to shift to his mother's pale grey, there was no denying who's the boy's parents were. 

"Ned, take that chest with you back to the North. It contains all the documents needed to prove his identity if needed. He's the rightful heir to the Iron Throne. On his sixteenth name-day if he survives to that age, tell him. Do not tell him before as I want him to be a man grown when he makes his decision."

One of the midwives pushed the small chest over towards him, along with a long skinny parcel. He looked at it oddly, wondering what it contained. This was answered as the woman holding it opened it to reveal the contents. It was rare Eddard Stark was taken aback, and Lyanna had to bite back a laugh at his facial expression.

"Dark Sister. The very sword Visenya Targaryen wielded. Give this to him the day you tell him the truth Ned. Rhaegar wanted his eldest to inherit it, but little Aegon was killed by the mountain, and Rhaenys by Amory Lorch. It's his."

A loud cry from the infant broke him from his trance as he shifted his arms position. Once the boy settled, he had a plan. He had been away for eleven months. He would tell his new wife that after a battle he had strayed and that he regretted it massively. But the woman had died giving birth to the babe, and he couldn't leave him be. Then on his sixteenth name day, he would sit down with the boy and explain everything to him. He would support his nephew with whatever decision he makes at the time. Jaeron Targaryen. He would call him Jon for short- a name derived from the Northern name Jonathor. He was about to explain his plan to his sister, but when he looked to her, he noticed her eyes had closed forever. 

"I'll do it for you Lya, I promise."


	2. I.

Eddard I

Summer snows in six of the seven Kingdoms that made up Westeros was almost alien. Then again, most of the Kingdoms had never even seen a single snowflake in their lifetime. However, in the North, snow falling in the middle of summer was a common occurrence. Seeing the different shapes snowflakes took and watching them hit the ground only to melt and later turn to ice. Today was one of those days where it was technically summer, but due to location there was still a biting cold. The women trying desperately to stop the falling snow from falling into their eyes, and the men walking around in thick fur cloaks still. 

Wintertown was always a pretty quiet town, nothing like White Harbour with its stony beaches, busy streets, and flowing markets. In total, only a few thousand people lived in the small town, but today was different. Today, the town centre was bustling with the upcoming name day of Robb Stark- the heir to Winterfell. The impressive castle standing a little over a mile away. Every year, each Stark child would be paraded around the small town to familiarise the people. It certainly made the dreary markets look worthwhile.

But there was one child that never got this treatment. In fact, not many people outside those who were higher up in ranks knew he even existed. A boy by the name of Jon Snow. The bastard son of Lord Eddard Stark. The product of a single night's stray from his new wife whilst at war. It was a common occurrence to happen, but what made it different was that it was the honourable Ned Stark who had done so. Some people questioned the claim, but there was no definitive proof to say he wasn't- so they took his word as truth. Of course, nobody but Ned knew there was documents to prove otherwise- but he was not going to falter.

The day was coming, the day he was dreading for the past sixteen years almost. With Robb's sixteenth name-day approaching, it meant Jon's was going to be here a mere week afterwards. The day that he had promised Lyanna and she died from complications of childbirth that the boy would know who he really was. He thought he was prepared for it, but as it came nearer- he realised with a start this was not the case at all. He still had a week to decide how he was going to do so. The chest Lyanna had given him kept in a hidden part of the crypts near her statue along with Dark Sister. 

It wasn't going to be an easy thing to confess. Jon may despise him, and the poor boy will go through turmoil. From thinking you're a bastard to finding out you're the rightful heir to the throne. Catelyn may not forgive him for making her believe he had an affair for sixteen years. The children may not forgive him for never telling them. But he promised her, and he promised he would do whatever he could to make sure that he was safe. Which meant from Robert. Ned had not seen his friend for many years, and if the words people spoke were true- he had changed drastically. Gone was the muscular Baratheon heir, replaced with an overweight alcoholic. Then again, with the wonderful Cersei Lannister as his wife- it did not surprise him.

Robert had been completely in love with Lyanna, had been since the moment he laid his eyes on her when their fathers agreed to the betrothal between the pair to join their houses. From her fierce nature and no-nonsense statements, he thought she was perfect in every way. Was she picture-perfect-beautiful? No. However, there was no denying there was something about her that made her incredibly attractive. His little sister never once let her gender stop her. If Jon did decide he would act upon his claim, Robert would proclaim war. And the thought terrified him to nothing else.

The Lord sat at the high table in the main hall, watching with a small smile on his face as Catelyn ordered their eldest son to remain still so she could make sure his new winter cloak was a perfect fit. The redhead grumbling in irritation as she did so, but he didn't want to have her feel like he did not appreciate the gift. Robb was tall, nearing Ned in height already at only fifteen name-days of age. His eldest sister following in his footsteps being only a couple of inches shorter but two name-days younger than he. Sansa was without a doubt her mother's daughter. From looks, to manners, to general attitude. 

Then there was Arya. Feisty little Arya. Out the eldest three, she took after her father in looks the most. Ned swears sometimes whenever she turned to him that he could see his own sister staring back at him. She certainly had a similar spirit to her. Perhaps a gift from the old gods. Bran looked a little like both, and with Rickon still being a little over one name-day old, they couldn't tell who he looked more like. Jon though, there was no denying looking at him that he had Stark blood in his veins. The characteristic long face, awkward shaped nose, and naturally pessimistic attitude. It was difficult as he grew into his features for Ned to picture he was Rhaegar's son. It wasn't until he turned ten name-days that he first saw signs of the dragon Prince. His eyes were already a giveaway, but in dim lighting they did appear grey. From the age of ten name-days, Ned made sure that all sons trained under Ser Rodrik. Robb was awkward but picked up quickly. Jon though, he took to it like a duck to water. 

The Master-at-arms was delighted at this, and within a month he had the boy moved from wooden swords to tourney swords. They were all blunted to avoid injury, but this didn't seem to stop the boy. It was no secret throughout the seven Kingdoms that Rhaegar was an incredibly talented swordsman. After all, he was one of only five people that had managed to disarm Ser Barristan Selmy in combat. He paused in remembrance at that specific tourney in which he earned the accolade. The same one where Lyanna had entered under the name of 'Knight of the Laughing Tree' and had beaten three men who were mocking Howland Reed. From the timeline, he knew this was the day that she first began talking to Rhaegar. Was this when they started to fall in love with one another? It was a question he was never going to get an answer to. 

"Father, what do you think?"

He snapped out of his thoughts as he stared at his heir, with his new cloak finally on and adjusted accordingly. 

"You look incredible, son. Now, you'd better get changed as Ser Rodrik is expecting you within the hour."

He allowed himself to snort at the unimpressed look Catelyn wore his way. She had gone through all the hassle to get her son into the garment only for her hard work to be undone quicker. Just like that, her newly hand-woven cloak was in a heap on the ground as her eldest son bolted to get changed.

"You had to, didn't you?"

Ned could do nothing but chuckle softly at her reprimanding tone. In the past seventeen years, he had grown to love her deeply, even if they only married because his older brother Brandon was killed by the Mad King. A death which potentially could've been avoided if Lyanna had been honest with what had happened. But the past is the past, it happened. 

"Maybe today he'll finally beat the bastard. He can't lose every time surely."

This was one thing they still couldn't agree on, even after all these years. Catelyn absolutely refused to refer to Jon by name. He was not her child, a reminder her husband had been with another woman behind her back. When she was pregnant with Robb as well. 

"I'll speak to him and ask him to go easy on him- "

"Don't. I don't want him winning because the other is trying not to. One day he will win of his own accord."

With that, his wife left the room mumbling about searching for Arya as she had a sewing class soon. Knowing his youngest daughter, she was probably hiding in a tiny crevice to watch the boys spar. He had witnessed her going up to her older brothers and asking for pointers, but never in front of Catelyn. His wife would without doubt have a fit at the thought of her youngest daughter fighting. She wanted her to be more like Sansa, a scenario that wouldn't happen until dragons were seen in the sky again. Ned stood up from his seat and made his way to watch his boys. It was always a treat, to see how skilled Jon was getting. It was benefitting Robb as well, because he always had an opponent to challenge him. The easiest way to get better at something is to challenge oneself at all possible intervals. 

He was not disappointed to say the least. Just seeing how natural it was for his nephew to pick up a sword and carry it like it were simply an extension of his arm. The boy had yet to beat Ser Rodrik, but that day would probably not be far off. Robb was the first to strike but Jon immediately blocked the attack and in the same motion pivoted to the side to catch his cousin in an awkward angle. The older having a smile on his face as he pulled away just before it would hit him. Ser Rodrik was at the side watching fondly, and he had to stop himself from snorting at spotting his daughters face peeking through a gap in the bricks to watch. Within seconds, what was just simple moves became a flurry of very advanced movements. Robb was clearly startled by the speed, but he refused to let it deter him as he sped up in his own antics. But Jon had anticipated so and slowed down massively to confuse the older boy. It went on for what seemed to be hours when it was only a few minutes before Jon successfully disarmed Robb once again. 

"You need to block your lower half, brother. You almost had me that time."

"Nah, I didn't. You're much better than I am."

Jon at least had the grace to blush as Ser Rodrik walked over to give each boy pointers for the next round. Ned stayed to watch one more, not even surprised that his nephew defeated his son with ease again before leaving the training yard. He had finished with all his duties for the day, and as usual he found his feet taking him down into the crypts. Torrhen, Rickard, Brandon. All the Starks were buried here going back hundreds of years. But he always stopped at the statue of his little sister. He opened the small hatch just behind it to remove one of the documents. The certificate of Jaeron Targaryen's birth.

"It's nearly the day Lya. I've kept my promise, and I will keep my promise no matter what. I miss you, little sister."

\---

"Robb! Stay still!"

The redhead rolled his eyes in annoyance as his mother fastened another cloak on him. The summer snows were falling harder today then they usually did, and she did not want her precious boy to go out in the cold with only the traditional armour that came with the presenting. On the opposite side of the room, Sansa sat with perfect poise as her maid braided her long auburn hair in the typical style for Northern nobility.

"Mother- "

He cut off from the stern glare Catelyn gave him.

"None of that. You are now a man grown Robb Stark; you need to make an impression. You are the heir to Winterfell."

At these words, the teenager kept quiet. He knew to his mother appearances were incredibly important, but he's never liked to put himself out there. But unfortunately, with him being the heir, he had no choice. All he wanted to do was run around and spar non-stop with his younger brother. Well, half-brother really, but he never considered him as anything other than brother. His mother hated that he had this mindset and they had gotten into multiple arguments over the years regarding this, but he was just as stubborn as his father which Cat had no choice but to accept eventually. One day, he would beat him in a spar. He's come close on dozens of bouts, but the week younger would always pull out a trick that would confuse him and in turn cause him to lose. 

"Do you like your sisters dress? It's the first she's completed all herself."

He looked to his younger sister who looked down to her work with a fond smile. There was no denying Sansa looked fantastic, she always did. Look wise, she had nothing about the North in her features. She was without a doubt their mothers mini-me. The only thing she did seem to inherit from their father was her stubbornness. A trait that seemed to run through all the Starks. Even Jon, and he wasn't even a Stark, he was a Snow. He's heard the story half a hundred times by now. His father rode off to fight alongside his friend Robert Baratheon to get back his sister Lyanna who was kidnapped by Rhaegar Targaryen. After a battle his father strayed from his vow to his mother and came back ten months later with a bastard, explaining the mother had died in childbirth and he couldn't leave him. He already knew his younger brother would not be invited to the festivities, but on these days he always snuck out to challenge him to a duel. 

Once Catelyn had finally gotten all the clips in place, she stood back to admire her son. He now stood the same height as her, and she had no doubt that within a year he would be a similar height to his father. Even Sansa stood at eye level with her, and she only had thirteen name days to her. Now, she turned to the corner where Arya was sulking. This caused Robb to snort, as his youngest sister despised wearing dresses and having her hair done pretty. If she got her way, she would happily go out dressed like he was. But Catelyn was a Tully, and she never backed down, therefore Arya never got her own way when it came to clothing. She huffed as their mother pulled the strings tight at the back of the dress. The face she was wearing almost caused Robb to cackle with laughter. Sansa simply rolled her eyes at her little sister before asking if she could be excused to grab something quick to eat beforehand. 

It took longer for Catelyn to get Arya ready than it did him, and by the end of it he swears his little sister was throwing daggers at their mother for forcing her into this. The pair left not long after this, Arya ranting and raving every few seconds about how it was not fair she couldn't wear trousers and loose shirts as she was a girl. On the way they met Bran who was too young to take part in the festivities yet. They played with him for a bit before making their way into the training yards. Once again, they were met with Jon sparring with Ser Rodrik. From the side lines, there was no denying how talented the young boy was with a sword. The way he would spin so quickly and use swings with such a powerful force. Ser Rodrik always said there was three ways to tell a swordsman. There's those who are completely inept, those who were awkward but could get better with lots of practise, then those who were naturals. 

"Do you think I can be taught one day."

Robb simply scuffed her hair a little, making sure their Lady mother was nowhere near to see as she would chew him out for doing so. 

"You can try, but you know mother won't like it."

"But father might, you've heard him speak of aunt Lyanna and how she was called half-centaur."

A soft smile came onto his face at this. Most people in Winterfell who were here when their aunt was alive referred to her as such. How she behind her mother's back convinced her eldest brother Brandon to teach her how to fight. It wouldn't surprise Robb if Arya followed in similar footsteps.

"Well, I'm a man grown now. Meaning I can do so without facing mother's wrath."

At what he was suggesting, a massive smile made its way onto Arya's face. A loud clanging noise broke them from their scheming and Robb was surprised that it was Ser Rodrik who had been disarmed. The older Knight simply staring down at his own sword with shock. 

"You finally best me."

"You almost had me, Ser- "

"None of that boy. You won, fair and square."

He jokingly scuffed the boy's black hair before picking his sword up and walking to the armoury. Jon instead attached his sword to his hip as he wanted to get some more practise in whilst his siblings were being paraded through Wintertown.

"Can you imagine mothers face if she saw."

Jon looked up to face his slightly older brother and youngest sister before shaking his head fondly.

"She'd despise me even more than she does already and demand Ser Rodrik not to train with me anymore."

Robb could do nothing but nod, as that is exactly how his mother would react if she knew Jon had bested Ser Rodrik.

"You'll beat me one day, Stark."

"Not any time soon, Snow. You just keep getting better and better as the days go on."

Jon blushed deeply at this before saying he had better get inside before Lady Catelyn pitched a fit for him training on her eldest son's special day. With that, Robb and Arya made their way to the stables where their father was waiting for them with a raised eyebrow. Both hung their heads in shame before mounting their own respective horses and making their way out of the castle. The Lord and Lady rode abreast to signify their union, and the children followed directly behind in order of age. But as Robb was now a man grown, he was also going to be riding between his parents with his sisters behind them. As they left, he chanced a single look towards Jon, and he swears his eyes changed from grey to lilac. He shrugged it off as nothing though, perhaps his deceased mother had that as an eye colour. 

The streets were filled on both sides. People came from all over the North to witness the parades. Wanting to get an eye on their future Lords and Ladies. The eldest took it in his stride (mostly to please his mother), Sansa looked as though she was born into it, and Arya was desperately trying to hide her scowl as she did not want to be here at all. She'd rather sit in a sewing class with Septa Mordane than do this, which was saying something as she always tried to weasel her way out of said lessons. She'd been getting more creative as she got older in doing so as well. Robb had found her up a tree with Bran to escape one just a few days ago. 

As a particularly cold gust of wind came along, Robb was suddenly glad his mother had went to the extent of weaving him a new cloak to go on top of the traditional armour worn for these events. However, it was tied loosely so it hung from his shoulders as opposed to sitting snug, showcasing the wolf emblazoned silver underneath. As they entered the gate into the small town, the smell of sweat and food completely overtook his senses. On both sides of the main street was lines with numerous stalls. Some were food from all over the continent- and the occasional one from Essos. Some were jewellery, some were trinkets, some were pottery, others were blacksmiths trying to make a name for themselves. 

Once they were spotted however, everyone instinctively filed along the walls of houses and businesses, leaving a space just large enough for three horses riding abreast. Despite his heart hammering away inside his chest, he sucked up his nerves and stared ahead, very much mimicking his father's characteristic expressions. Robb could feel his mother smile subtly his way. People cheered, whispered, and threw small gifts towards them. All knowing it would be rude to not show gratitude, each caught one flying item and smiling broadly, but neither knowing exactly what they had caught. The streets thinned the further in they went, which meant they couldn't ride abreast anymore. Lord Stark went first, followed by Lady Stark, Robb, Sansa, and lastly Arya. 

There were hardly any people here, but it was customary they went through every main street on the day in question. At least they wouldn't need to do so for another few months for Arya's eleventh name day. There was no doubt she would try and wriggle her way out of it like she always did since she became of age to partake in the parades. All attempts were futile though as Catelyn seemed to have an extra sense to know where her daughters were always . The most his feisty little sister had gotten away with was postponing it by two hours. But the Lady had found her alongside Bran high up one of Winterfell's many towers. 

She hated it when they did so, but no amount of punishing or yelling stopped the pair from doing so. It wouldn't surprise Robb if the pair have previously made it onto the roof before. Whether they were up one of the many Weirwood trees, towers, walls, if it was high up- the pair went up. Ned found it amusing most often, remarking on a few occasions he had done the same with his siblings when he was their age. It was rare Lord Stark spoke of his family, and nobody could blame him.

Rickard and Brandon summoned by the Mad King and executed on arrival. Benjen up at the wall. Lyanna kidnapped, raped, and murdered. It was hard to think of the Stark line without thinking of the numerous bad events that had occurred. It's difficult to see past the worst scenarios to see the good ones no matter who a person is. Once they finally reached the end, people were waiting to take their horses. This was the part Robb liked, being able to walk around and mingle, and to take in each individual stall. He made sure he had his pouch of gold and silver on him before running off with Arya. Sansa scoffed but she had a small smile to her face before running after her siblings. 

They all talked fondly with the people of the North, knowing one day they will take over as Lords and Ladies, they may as well get some experience. Sansa immediately went to the jewellery, her mother joining not long after. Robb and Arya however, headed to one of the blacksmiths. Each eyed the numerous bows, knives, swords, and foreign weapons they had never seen with fascination. When his Lady mother was not looking, Robb silently asked if he could make a knife small enough for Arya. He was startled by the request but seeing the large smile that came on to the youngest female of the clan made him agree to do so. 

"You'll have to hide it from mother, otherwise she'll rip my ear off."

Now, she was bouncing on the balls of her feet before dragging him to one of the many food stalls. Both took a few of everything, making sure to grab a couple extra Volantene nut pastries for Jon. Since he was not allowed to partake in the parades due to his bastard status, he never got to experience the festivities like his siblings. He always had a taste for the more exotic cuisines of the free cities of Essos. By the time the pair had gorged on enough they felt like they were about to be sick, they made their way back to the blacksmith to collect the knife. Due to it being done in such little time, there was no fancy lettering on the blade or designs on the hilt, but it was a very sturdy weapon. She quickly stowed it away under her numerous furs. 

Once they got to the entrance, their horses awaited them once again. All mounted up and made their journey up to the castle again. However, a troubled look on Ned's face set an uneasy feeling into the children. It was rare he let his regular stoic expression fall, so they knew something was bothering him. There was no use in asking though as all knew from experience he would change the subject immediately. Even Catelyn knew of this, which bothered her massively. 

In one week, everything would change within their dynamic. It was a thought that bothered the Lord. But he made a promise, and he has stuck to his promise for almost sixteen years now. He will not fail Lyanna again, even in death.


	3. II

Eddard II

Nerves was something Eddard Stark rarely experienced. From the day he was sent from Winterfell to foster at the Eyrie with Robert under Jon Arryn, all the way until the fateful day Howland had dishonourably ended Ser Arthur Dayne so they could gain access to the Tower of Joy. Each time in between, every battle fought, he only ever felt melancholy and adrenaline. But this was a day he had been preparing for the past sixteen years. He thought he would have it all mapped out and would be able to just get it all out in the open with little to no feelings other than sadness over his little sister and for lying. Ned hated lying, as it took away his prized value of honour. But when it comes down to it, the only people he would lie for would be his family. 

And it was not a small lie. Seven hells, he remembers the moment Lyanna told him the truth. How she had rejected Robert but he refused her doing so thinking her to be joking. To her willingly running off in the middle of the night dressed as a servant girl towards White Harbour where Rhaegar had a ship waiting. To them making their journey to the Isle of Faces so they could wed under Lyanna's gods as the Targaryen Prince did not worship any. To them willingly running off to Dorne where Lyanna found out she was with babe, to her finding out Rhaegar had been defeated brutally by Robert Baratheon himself. Ned always knew that she did not care much for Robert, she had flat out told him on numerous occasions that he was nothing but a pig-nosed whore fucker. However, the betrothal had been made many years prior, the very reason Ned was sent to the Eyrie. So, he could spend time with his sisters betrothed, get to know the boy who would become his goodbrother. 

But tomorrow, the truth was coming out once and for all. Not the one that Robert had spread with the help of his allies. From having informants, the Lord knew there were still Targaryen loyalists hidden in the dark. He'd tried on numerous occasions to get in touch with Daenerys and Viserys in Essos. But it seemed that every time he did, they had just left to escape Robert's sell swords. To think that sixteen years later his friend was still trying to rid the world of Dragonspawn as he would call it. The whole time he knew Robert, he counted the man an incredibly good friend. But something changed when he had clapped Jaime Lannister on the back for stabbing Aerys in the back. And he could not forget the glee on his face when he was presented the butchered bodies of the children. Jon's older half brother and sister. Kingslaying was one thing, Kinslaying worse, but childslaying was downright barbaric. It was said Aegon had been stabbed a few times before having his head crushed against a wall, and little Rhaenys had apparently been stabbed half a hundred times. 

Two children not even five name-days old. Murdered on someone he had considered best friend and was almost goodbrother's orders. He remained civil with Robert for political reasons, but he did make him aware he did not approve of said actions. Not that Robert cared, he had simply laughed and spat on the ground in a very unceremonious fashion. He didn't want the throne, he wanted Lyanna. And the only way he was going to get Lyanna was to take out Rhaegar. It failed anyway, as the shock of hearing of Rhaegar's demise is what caused her to go into labour with Jon. 

But there was one person he needed to tell prior to Jon. He had to come clean to Catelyn. He will need all the support possible to follow through on his promise to his sister, and she was one of his biggest confidents. They told each other almost everything, and both did love one another deeply despite their rocky start. The entire first year of their marriage, they had spent a measly three weeks with one another. With her falling pregnant on their wedding night, and him having to leave for war a couple of days later. Then when he came back many months later with Lyanna's babe hidden as his bastard to meeting his own new-born Robb for the first time. He had no idea how she would react. Although, he was certain about one thing. Ultimately, she would support him. But it wasn't him who needed the support, it was his nephew. Because if the boy does decide to act upon his claim, the realm will be nothing short of pandemonium. 

"Ser Rodrik, I need your assistance with something."

The Master-at-arms turned to his liege lord and nodded affirmatively. Soon, the Knight was in step with the Lord, casting him odd looks as he led him down into the crypts. Some people tried to sneak down here on many occasions, but the guards always stopped those who did. Only members of the family were permitted entry to them. Ser Rodrik got confused as he was led over to the statue in front of Lyanna's tomb, wondering what was going on. Ned simply revealed the hatch to reveal the chest inside.

"Help me bring this to my quarters, Ser. All shall be explained in a few days."

He had to bite his lip, desperately wanting to know what his Lord was up to. But he knew Eddard Stark was a man of his word, so he would find out soon enough. What he didn't expect was the weight of the chest. What was in here? All he knew is that it was something incredibly important, and with its location he knew it had something to do with the she-wolf of Winterfell. But what? People they passed gave them all strange looks, but nobody dared to question the pair. Once it was situated in his own chambers, he instructed him to find his Lady wife and to send her over immediately. Making sure that she was alone. No one else but her was going to hear this. Not until Jon himself had been told. His nephew deserved that much. Silence surrounded him as he waited on his wife's arrival, desperately trying to think of a soft way of dropping such a bombshell on her. Every time, he came up empty handed. Frankly, there is no simple way to say what he was about to bestow upon her. 

"You requested to see me, my Lord?"

Ned simply nodded before gesturing she lock the door behind her. Catelyn assumed this meant he wanted to take her to his bed, but then she spotted the troubled look on his face. She followed his gaze to the chest, trying to figure out what was wrong. He signalled her to sit down on the opposite side of the table he was occupying, so they were face-to-face. The chest at the side ready to be opened with the proof of everything.

"My love?"

"Cat, what I am about to tell you, you must keep a secret unless he acts upon it. Can you promise me that?"

She furrowed her brows as she stared at her husband, trying to decipher what he meant with his words. But if he asked her to promise, then she knew it was serious. Really serious. Eddard Stark almost never makes a promise, and it's even rarer for him to ask someone else to promise him something. Without question, she confirmed she would remain quiet. No matter how bad it is. 

"What do you know of Robert's Rebellion, Cat?"

The question caught her completely off guard, not expecting such a turn in words. He rarely spoke about what happened, she had solely pieced everything together from hearsay. And hearsay isn't necessarily accurate.

"It started after Rhaegar took your sister against her will. When word got out of this, Brandon went to the Red Keep to demand her back only to be imprisoned. Then your father was summoned to answer for his son only for both to be executed. Then King Aerys demanded both yours and Robert's head. After this we found out Lyanna was being raped by Rhaegar, then it was full blown war which ended in the Targaryen's losing the throne along with the children being slaughtered-"

He cut her off there and proceeded to open the chest to pick up the annulment certificate. He slid it across so she could read it. As she did, her eyes slowly widened in surprise. Rhaegar and Elia annulled their marriage? On the grounds of joint decision? Ned let her soak everything in before handing her the marriage certificate. As Catelyn read what was on these, she felt bile build in her throat. It was all a lie. Rhaegar did not kidnap Lyanna, he had married her. She had never met the she-wolf in person, only ever saw her in passing on occasion. She was always rather spirited, and now that she thought on it, Ned always said she was like Arya. Knowing her daughter, it did not seem likely anyone could take her against her will. Which meant she went willingly. 

"Rhaegar annulled his marriage with Elia to marry Lyanna? And no one was aware of this?"

Ned simply shook his head in the negative, his lips tightened in fear for how she would react to the next thing he was going to tell her. He allowed her time to digest all the information, and he contemplated just handing her the birth certificate, but she deserved to be told directly and not through words on a piece of parchment. 

"Lyanna wasn't murdered, Cat. She died of birth complications. When I got there, it was already too late. Nothing could be done to save her."

There. He'd said it. Finally revealed the mystery of Lyanna's death. There were stories about what had happened of course, but he had never explicitly revealed what he had found in the Tower of Joy. Nor had Howland Reed. A secret the pair had guarded for sixteen years. Upon hearing those words, her face went white as the dots began the connect. Her heart went out to her husband, not being able to imagine what he must've felt like to walk in on his dying sister in childbirth. But what happened to the child? It took a few minutes before it finally clicked. Rage bubbled up inside of her over the fact he had allowed her to be shamed for the boy.

"Jon's not your bastard, is he? He's your nephew."

Ned simply took in a deep breath before nodding to confirm her suspicions. She was about to retort but he bet her to it.

"She made me promise, Cat. Her last words to me was her begging for me to keep him safe. She had heard what Robert had done to Aegon and Rhaenys, gods be damned was she allowing the same to happen to her son. Promise me, Ned. Promise me. I knew if I confirmed the truth he would never be safe, would be spending his entire life on the run from sell swords. Even if I'd only told a couple of people. And Lya made me promise that I would sit down and reveal everything to him on his sixteenth name-day. But I had to confide in you first. Because if he acts on his claim, he'll need all the support he can get, Cat. I failed Lya once, I will not fail her again. Even in death."

Slowly, she closed her gaping mouth, desperately trying to think on his reasoning. Tried her best to ignore the hurt that threatened to cause her to lash out. Desperately fighting back tears that wanted to spill. There was one thing she knew about her husband. When he made a promise, he made a promise. And if he was being honest and Lyanna had done so, then it made sense why he did what he did. But surely there were other ways he could've been hidden? He was with Howland, what stopped him from claiming the boy was his bastard son instead of Ned? But then everything came crashing down, the final piece falling into place. Annulment, wedding, death by childbirth... 

"He- seven hells, Ned. That boy is the heir to the damn Iron Throne. He has a bigger claim than any of the Baratheon's, even bigger than the other two Targaryen's in Essos!"

That was what he meant with the 'if he acts on it'. Catelyn swore loudly as she got up from her seat and began frantically pacing in circles. Ned could do nothing but watch her. For sixteen years, she had treated a rightful Prince as nothing but scum, all because she thought her husband had slept with another woman whilst off at war. But then other words came to mind. Not at one point in her memory could she remember him outwardly saying Jon was his son. He always said he had met his mother at war and that she had died in childbirth, and he could not bring himself to leave the babe to grow up an orphan. And that was the truth. He had met Lyanna during the war, she had died birthing him, and Ned could not leave the babe. Whenever he referred to the boy, he always said 'he is my blood', which was also the truth. He had simply worded things to make it seem like he was his father, when he was his uncle. 

"What else is in the chest?"

Steadily, she sat back down again, taking in the silent tears falling down his face. How hard must this have been for him? This is something he has kept a secret from everyone. From her, from the children, to castle workers, from friends, from allies, from the realm, and from the King. There was no doubt at all that Robert would stop at nothing before all Targaryen's were dead. And by denying Jon of his house name, he was safe. He simply gave a small hand gesture, giving her authority to go through everything else. Eagerly, she dug in. Diaries, letters, trinkets, Rhaegar's crown, Lyanna's maiden cloak, and a brilliant sword at the bottom. No, she never versed in weaponry other than basic defence skills, but she knew Valyrian steel when she saw it. Her husband had one of them. The pale blue ripples on the almost black blade creating a truly incredible sight. 

"That's Dark Sister."

At this, her eyes bugged. That sword was as legendary as Aegon the conqueror. The very sword one of his sister-wives had wielded. Visenya Targaryen, still renowned for her ruthlessness. This very weapon had helped carve Westeros into what it was today. Thousands of lives taken with the sharp edge, and even more injured on it. Carefully, she placed it back inside, making sure she did not damage anything as Valyrian steel was incredibly sharp. Silence fell over the husband and wife as both took everything in. Ned was surprised she seemed to be taking it as well as she was, and Catelyn was surprised she was the same too. If anything, she felt stupid that she had not pieced it together. Now that she thought about it, Jon had lilac eyes- a trait that was exclusive to people who had Valyrian ancestry. Very few Valyrian's had survived the doom. Some of his facial structure was also identical to Rhaegar's. The Dragon Prince's looks were very well known, a lot of women falling over their feet. Dreams that were crushed when he had married Elia Martell. 

"Your father Ned, and Brandon- "

He simply shook his head, silently asking her not to continue. He hated talking about what happened to them. How Catelyn's betrothed had stormed to the Red Keep demanding Lyanna be released and for Rhaegar to show himself. How he was imprisoned and Rickard was summoned to answer for his son. Then Rickard being imprisoned and set alight in front of Brandon who had been shackled just out of his father's reach. To ultimately strangling himself trying to free his father. It had been for nothing. Lyanna had never been in the Red Keep, she was hiding in Dorne with Rhaegar. 

"All those people dead, for nothing- "

"It wasn't for nothing Cat. It ended in Aerys dying. The man was going madder by the day, it was only a matter of time before he released his wildfire caches."

Normally, Catelyn hated being cut off, but she knew as well as he that what happened was necessary. No matter how dishonourable it was. Not that Jaime Lannister's actions made him favourable by any means, hardly anyone liked him bar his family. Gosh, this was going to create so many problems further down the line.

"You're going to follow through on your promise tomorrow, aren't you?"

He didn't even need to do anything, he simply looked at her with his characteristic stern expression before she got her answer.

"Give me time to think on everything, it's not a nice thought knowing you've lied to me for almost sixteen years. However, I understand. I need to come to terms on my treatment of the boy. But I'm on your side, Ned. You're my husband. I'll support you."

With these words, the Lady left the room but making sure to close the door behind her so nobody else could see what lay inside. Biting his lip, the Lord slid the diary over towards him which documented everything. He's had a long time to think of reasons why Lyanna was not honest, and he thinks he knows why. If she confirmed she loved Rhaegar and wanted to marry him, this would've insulted Dorne, The Stormlands, and The North massively. Her homeland because of a broken betrothal, The Stormlands due to Robert's hot temper, and Dorne due to Elia being cast aside. Yes, the annulment certificate confirmed that the Dornish Princess approved the marriage, but her family would not have taken to it kindly. Especially Oberyn. Sighing deeply, he decided to call it as is and left to complete his duties.

He barely slept that night, Catelyn much the same as he. Most nights they made love, but not this night. There was too much on both of their minds to think of that. Their marriage for the first few years was rocky, but once borders were set it was mostly plain sailing. Ned had always known he would marry someone highborn, but not to someone of House Tully. He'd heard of his father talking about a betrothal between him and Ashara Dayne as he had witnessed the two together and how close they were. That would not have worked out, he remembers vividly the single punch he received from the furious woman when he confirmed he had bested her brother Arthur. Only him and Howland knew that he did not beat him, but a dishonourable slaying of someone who did not deserve their fate would've kick started another rebellion between houses, and nobody needed that. Catelyn was promised to Brandon since before they were teenagers, Ned had only married her instead of his brother after his death to honour the alliance between Houses Stark and Tully. 

The morning came too soon for him. He'd managed to get a couple of hours of sleep which took some of the edge off him, but this was nothing compared to the weight now on his shoulders. He's carried this secret for so long, and not knowing how the boy or his own children will react. Cat had seemed to take it well, but she's always had a stoic expression so he couldn't confirm if this was truth or not. She may just be putting on a brave face. She had left early that morning to attend morning lessons with Sansa and Arya, having already broken her fast a couple of hours prior as she liked to be awake early unlike her Lord Husband. However, she did have the decency to leave a note confirming she had thought into it all long into the night. She said she was going to try and treat the boy like her own children, but she couldn't guarantee it. It was a start at least.

Then again, it's possible Catelyn was thinking politically. If she were to suddenly go from hating the boy to loving him, it would raise suspicions. Jon may not even act on the claim, he might just prefer to go to the Wall like he had been talking about for the past couple of years. Ned did not want to send him there. Yes, Benjen was there, but it was still filled with rapists, murderers, and thieves. A hidden Prince serving there for life? Maybe he will go but ask he not say his vows. Perhaps he will go so he can speak to his thrice grand uncle Aemon. From his little brother's letters, the eldest Targaryen had gone blind and regularly daydreamed of his brother Aegon. But the man was still family.

Once he had broken his fast on bountiful amounts of blood sausage, bacon, bread, and cheese, he made his way out to the training yard. It was normally around midday that Ser Rodrik took the eldest boys out to spar. He's heard that Jon had bested the Master at arms yesterday, a feat that was incredibly impressive. Only five people to Ned's knowledge had managed to do so. One was Ser Jaime, another Ser Arthur, Brandon had done so once but never managed it again, and he forgets the rest now as it was so long ago. It was incredibly impressive that a boy of sixteen name-days had managed to best someone who had served in Winterfell for more than double that. 

Once he made it to his usual spot, he looked down at the boys with a fond smile on his face. Jon at first glance did not look like a Targaryen at all. With his curly black hair, sullen and long face, and general attitude. It would only be obvious to people who had spent a lot of time around the dragon Prince. How his eyes often shifted from characteristic Stark grey to Targaryen purple. The high cheekbones on his face jutting out to give a very chiselled look that a lot of people wished they had. Then the expressions. Ned had hardly known Rhaegar, had only met him a few times, but Jon's expressions matched his father's almost exactly. 

There was no denying the amount of skill the slightly younger had. He took to a blade like a duckling takes to water. He tried numerous types of weaponry, but he was never as good with them as he was with a sword. Luckily, the swords that were used in training were blunted so at most there would be a nasty bruise left over, but nothing more than this. Because if either boy was using live steel, he shuddered at the mess there would be on the grounds of the courtyard. Robb was very talented as well, as he held his own very well and had bested himself on a few occasions whenever the Lord had some time to himself. But he never did so with Jon, knowing it would upset his lady wife. Then again, he would make a mockery of himself because there was no doubt in his mind that he would best him. A boy of sixteen name-days besting a lord of thirty-four? It wasn't a surprise that Robb's sword came flying out his hands not long after this thought, both boys breathing heavily and Jon clutching his ribs hard meaning his eldest had landed a hit there. A hard one at that.

"Good bout boys."

Both teenagers looked up to face him but Jon had the grace to look away not long after. He walked down the stairs to meet them and he noticed that Jon was clearly holding in a wince. He eyed his eldest with a raised eyebrow now, waiting on him to speak.

"I chanced an upward strike like Ser Rodrik does on occasion, didn't get the correct position though."

Jon shoved him a little to the side in jest before continuing.

"What he means to say is that he tried to knock me off balance but in doing so lost his own balance and didn't land a hit where he meant it too."

Both joked back and forth a little and Ned found it unsettling at the faces Jon was making. As he was getting older, his Targaryen features were becoming more prominent. 

"Robb, you'd best get to your lessons for the day. Jon, come with me. We need to talk."

Robb turned to his cousin with an odd look. It was rare the Lord of Winterfell requested he speak to one of them alone unless they were in a lot of trouble. This fact was not lost on the slightly younger either as he gulped loudly before walking over to Ned. He turned on his heel and began walking through the castle, servants looking to the pair oddly and some going so far as to snigger under their breaths. Being a bastard meant he was basically little more than a nobody, and the castle workers certainly joyed in the fact. It was no secret there was a massive segregation between the Lords of Westeros and the smallfolk. Highborn kept to themselves, and lowborn kept to themselves. That was how it had run for over a hundred years. The entire time, Jon did not look up, knowing he was likely in trouble. What had Sansa or Theon told their mother about him now? Did she find out he had bested Ser Rodrik the day prior? Or was he finally being sent to his fate at the Wall? 

"Take a seat, kid."

He did so obediently, still refusing to look up at his Lord father fearing the worst. 

"You're not in trouble. There's something you need to know, something big. It's going to change things massively. But I made a promise."

The younger frowned at this before finally looking up to stare him in the eye. The only times where Lord Stark asked for any of his children was only if they were in trouble apart from Robb who got extra training as he would be Lord of Winterfell after him. 

"It's about your mother, Jon."

His breath hitched in his throat at hearing these words. Never in his entire sixteen name-days had Lord Stark ever spoke about who Jon's mother was. People assumed it was a woman named Wylla, and others assumed it was even Ashara Dayne. But he had never confirmed either rumour, always remaining tight-lipped. One thing was certain- Lord Stark loved his mother deeply. 

"Is she alive? Does she know about me? Does she know where I am?"

Those three questions fell from his mouth rapidly. Once he had started, he couldn't stop. Many years of pent up questions desperate to be answered. All his life he had wanted to know who his mother was. And now, it seems like he was finally finding out.

"Unfortunately, she did not make it past birth with you. I'm so sorry. She held you, and she named you, but she did not survive much longer."

Right then, he felt his heart shatter into millions of pieces. All hope he had ever had of meeting the woman who had birthed him destroyed like the way steel destroys ice. 

"Why did you not tell me?"

"Because if people knew then you would've been assassinated."

Now, confusion took over him. What did he mean with that? Was his mother highborn? If so, was there something she had done that she shouldn't have done? Why would his life have been in danger? Babes were innocent. Even from their parents. Not all children are like their parents after all. It's unfair to punish a child for their parent's sins. And since Lord Stark only had one sin on his cloak which was siring him, it meant his mother was the one who had more sins on her. 

"Your mother was betrothed from a young age to someone she despised. However, her betrothed loved her fiercely and did not take kindly to her not harbouring feelings for him back. One summer, she fell in love, and ran off to be with this person. Her betrothed could not comprehend that she did not want to marry him, so he spun a story of how she was kidnapped and murdered. Everyone thought this was the case. Until I found her. In her birthing bed, covered in blood, cradling you tight to her chest not wanting to let you go but knowing she needed to."

At hearing the words fall from his lips, he became aware of the incredible levels of tension there now were in the room. Jon looked at everything, not really taking anything in as he absorbed the words. Why had Lord Stark answered in such a way? If what he said was true, the big sin was a broken betrothal- but this was not uncommon. Numerous betrothals fall through for one reason or another. But denial and a broken betrothal- this could be deadly. If people knew about his mother, he would've been assassinated. Which meant she must've been highborn. Which meant her betrothed must've been highborn as well. Why had his father lay with a woman who would've had a public betrothal?

But then the pieces began to click. The betrothed to someone she despised wasn't the key to it. Most political marriages are like this. Heck, everyone knew Queen Cersei and King Robert despised one another. The same with Lysa and Jon Arryn. It was possible his mother's betrothed was heavily insulted by her not wanting to go through with the marriage and ran off with someone else. Lying about this to cover their backs- then the penny dropped. Ned watched intently as he saw so many emotions cross the youngers face, unable to comprehend what he was currently feeling. 

"She made me promise I would keep you safe. As you're the only piece I have left of her, I wanted to keep you close by. This was the only way I could think of."

Jon's mind was racing at a pace he didn't know was possible. He was still a bastard, but not Eddard Stark's. All his life he's called him father when he was his uncle. He took the shame of siring a bastard onto his shoulders so Robert Baratheon would not kill him due to who his father was. Gods, he was the Mad King's grandson. If people did know even if Robert wasn't around, dozens would still want him dead. Why had Rhaegar run off with Lyanna when he was married and had two children?! That was unheard of. To have a mistress fair enough, but to set aside one's wife and kids for another woman? 

"It wasn't like that, Jon, and there's proof. Open the chest."

He frowned a little before noticing the wood beside his leg. Still, the boy did not look at the Lord as he opened it. A move that Ned felt and desperately tried to ignore the rejected feeling in his stomach from it. If the roles were reversed, he had no idea if he would've reacted the same as his nephew. All he can hope for, is that he takes the news well. Once the chest was opened, he was met with what appeared to be letters and certificates. He picked them up and placed them on the table before reaching down, but Ned gently placed a hand over his own and looked to them. A move that said to read these first before anything else. Steadily, he untied the ribbon enclosing them together before beginning to read.

Due to numerous individual reasons, my husband and I have decided to annul our marriage. We were never a good match for one another, even in a political sense. I have already sent ravens to my father and brothers to alert them of the news and am awaiting a response. If they receive it that is. Something is going to happen, and Rhaegar can sense it too. We're in danger, along with the kids. My husband is considering sending his mad father off before he orders his new Hand to release his numerous wildfire caches. For my health, for Rhaegar's health, for our children's health, we both know this is the best decision for us at this moment in time. We shall be heading to meet with the High Septon to make the arrangements within the week.

Elia Martell.

Princess of the Seven Kingdoms and Princess of Dorne.

Letters. Multiple of them. This one itself was damning. With trembling hands, he placed it down and moved on to the next one. Hesitantly, Ned reached over to pick it up, him never reading these himself. Jon had to be the first to see these. As he read on, his eyes widened. Yes, Lyanna had confirmed they had wed, but he had no idea that Rhaegar had agreed to an annulment with Elia. Also, with the something coming part- she couldn't have been more correct. Not many people gave the Dornish Princess much attention outside the fact she was married to the Crowned Prince. Whether this was due to her heritage or due to her being notoriously sickly- nobody really knew. But she wasn't stupid. Her brothers were Oberyn and Doran after all. 

One month after we came to the agreement, we annulled our marriage. However, due to Aerys' increasing madness, we have decided to not have it be public knowledge. He still wants to be there for the children, and he has already promised with a decree that they will remain his heirs. We will continue to put on a united front in public because if it got out- I dread what will happen. My brothers will not be pleased with it, but they will respect the decision. I suspect Queen Rhaella will also understand as she knows we never loved one another as a husband and wife should. No, it was King Aerys and Tywin Lannister I feared. There was no doubt that Aerys would likely release his wildfire caches on Sunspear in revenge for my "betrayal", and it was common knowledge that my prompt marriage to Rhaegar was done to spite the Hand. 

In two weeks, we will begin travels to Harrenhal for the next tourney. I don't like fighting in a real sense, but I've always loved a tourney. Due to my illnesses, I couldn't go to many. But I was determined to go to this one. Especially as my previous husband would be taking part himself. Rhaegar is incredibly talented when it comes to fighting even though he despises doing so. If he had his way he would win wars with his harp and singing voice. Once again, we will be putting on a front of husband and wife whilst keeping our secret to ourselves.

Elia Martell.

Princess of Dorne.

There were three piles of letters in total, all bound together by ropes of differing colours. One in a blood-red to signify Targaryen. Another in a mahogany-red to signify Martell. And the last was a pale grey to signify Stark. Jon continued to stare at this letter, trying to read in between the lines for any hidden agenda. But no matter how hard he tried; he could not do so. His mind was still reeling at the revelation. 

The next few letters detailed the famed tourney. Much to his surprise, there was an entire paragraph of praise over Lyanna. Which meant Elia was aware of the budding relationship between Rhaegar and her. None of it seemed passive-aggressive, there didn't seem to be any messages hidden either. Meaning she was all for it, and likely gave consent. However, there was one thing that troubled him greatly and it did Ned too once the letters were passed to him after being read by the younger. In them, there was talk of communications being sent to confirm everything. Although, not at once to avoid something huge. Both wracked their brains but always came up empty handed, there was no knowledge of said communications. This meant one of two things. They were either intercepted and not passed on, or the recipients did not care. 

Once he had gotten to the end of his mother's letters, trying to wipe a tear from his eye, he began pulling out what else was in the chest. A maiden cloak, a binding cloth, his fathers famed harp, some jewellery and trinkets. However, at the bottom lay three pieces of parchment and a sword. Carefully, he reached down to pick up the sword, the no-weight feel confirming it was Valyrian steel. A material that was incredibly rare and that a very select few people knew how to work. How it was made was lost in the Doom, but how it could be manipulated and reshaped was not. He eyed the markings on it and took in the black leather hilt with large ruby imbedded into it, flame pommel, and ripple decoration. Slowly, he slid it out to see it in its glory, and the second he did, he felt his breath hitch in his throat. Surely not? It couldn't be, could it? 

"Dark Sister. Wielded by Daemon Blackfyre and Visenya Targaryen."

A look of complete awe came over him as he studied it in more detail. This very sword he held in his hands was used to bring the Seven Kingdoms together. Yet now, they were on the brink of separation again. Carefully, he placed it down on the table after sheathing it before picking up the pieces of parchment. The one on the top was the proof of annulment, the second being proof of marriage between Lyanna and Rhaegar, and lastly was the proof of his birth. Jaeron Targaryen. 

"I understand this is a lot to take in. I completely understand if you decide not to do anything and continue as you are. But if you do decide to do anything- I'm with you. My wife is the same, I told her last night. Nobody else knows yet other than Howland Reed as he was with me the day we found her in the tower."

Slowly, the younger let out a breath he did not even realise he was holding in. He felt an ache begin to form near the centre of his temples and he hastily massaged them to try and bring down some of the tension. Deep down, he felt rage build up that this was always kept a secret for him. Was this the famed feeling of 'waking the dragon'? Perhaps it was, or perhaps it was something else entirely. On the final letter from his mother, it was confirmed that she knew there was a high chance she was not going to survive. She also stated that she did not want it to be common knowledge to prolong the war as she had already received the news of his fathers and sibling's deaths. 

Guilt washed over him now. All his life he has wanted to have a name and to have a mother. Yet secretly, he always had a name, but he would never have a mother. She had taken her last breath minutes after birthing him. He'd always wanted to be considered a sibling to the other Stark's. Even Sansa, despite her disliking him for being a bastard. He had two siblings. Siblings he had shared names with, and siblings who were murdered for their name. It was said that Princess Rhaenys was stabbed half a hundred times and had been dragged crying and kicking from under her father's bed before facing her fate. It was said Elia was bound up in ropes and forced to watch as Gregor Clegane threw the infant Aegon against a wall and crushing his skull open. And Elia...

It was common knowledge there wasn't a bond stronger than a mother and child. So, for a mother to witness her child being murdered in such a brutal way, then being raped beside the body, and finally being killed herself was unfathomable to imagine. And this was carried out as Tywin Lannister sacked the city on his orders. 

"Are you going to tell the others? Now I know, I doubt I will be able to keep it secret."

Ned nodded quietly. He had agreed with Catelyn the night prior that they would tell Robb and Sansa everything, and tell Arya and Bran a simplified version. Rickon was still too young to know the repercussions of the truth. 

A weight lifted from him at this, now knowing he did not need to tell it himself. Everything had been a lie. Lyanna did not love Robert like he claimed, and she was not kidnapped and raped by Rhaegar. She hadn't been murdered by him either. The man was known to have a massive distaste for the Targaryen's, despite his grandmother being one. It was common knowledge he had been sending assassins after Daenerys and Viserys since they had fled to secure his place. One being a newborn, and the other being seven. He would've come after him too if he had known. This meant that Robert did usurp the throne, even if Aerys deserved to die for his mad ways. But it should've been Rhaegar who was King after, but the Baratheon Lord made sure this was not the case. Stealing his right along with it. 

"I'm the rightful heir to the Iron Throne, gods!"

As the realisation sunk in, he stood up and began pacing around the room. Ned could do nothing but sit and watch.


	4. III

Jaeron I

Jon had always been a melancholy person. Ever since he was young whenever they had visitors, it was usually said in passing that he was most Stark of the lot. Now being no different, but for a completely different reason. The secret had been damning, there was no way around it. The King had murdered his father because he refused to admit his mother did not love him back and had rejoiced over the deaths of his older siblings. Who does that? Who in their right mind rejoices over the deaths of children? Fair enough if they are of war age, but one was only a name-day old and the other being five name-days old. Disgust and horror coiled inside of him.

When he first figured it out, he had wanted to storm out the room and not speak to Lord Stark again. Yet something compelled him to stay, and what he had seen was terrifying. Talks of communication that was either ignored or intercepted in transit. Talks of something bad happening. Talks of Rhaegar forcing Aerys off the throne and banishing him so he could stop the realm from being ran by a tyrant. It was too much. Way too much. It wasn't a secret that dragons were not well-liked. Most people knew the saying. Whenever a Targaryen is born, the gods flip a coin, and everyone holds their breath to see if it lands on madness or greatness. 

A polarising family. There wasn't any known who wasn't a bit of both. It was one extreme or the other when it came to them. And Jon was one. Had been his entire life. What side of the coin did he fall under? He didn't think he was mad, but those who do go mad don't think they are. He was anything but great. Well, except from perhaps his swordsmanship. He wasn't dumb, he knew he took to the art amazingly well and was only getting better as time went on. The boy tossed and turned in his bed that evening, the castle long being dead to slumber by now. But he just could not do so. He'd read the letters dozens of times, he'd tried to write down what he was feeling, but nothing was helping. With a grunt, he pulled the covers off and grabbed the sword. 

Dark Sister.

This sword was legendary, and it was his. He had to be careful with it for obvious reasons. If it got out that he had it if he does choose not to do anything, he will be forced into something. He pulled on some furs and made his way into the training ring where dummies were set up. Jon tried his best to imagine that the inanimate object was someone, but who? Then it came to him. Someone strong, black of hair, with a devilish look on his face. Robert Baratheon. With a short cry the sword encountered it on numerous occasions, and by the time he was out of breath, all that was left of it was cushion. He was breathing hard as he swiped the sweat off his brow. Footsteps broke the silence though. Immediately, he stored the sword away and tucked it under his furs before turning to see who was there.

"Bit violent there weren't you brother- cousin?"

A sigh of relief left him at this before walking over to Robb. His cousin immediately opened his arms to him, holding him close. Somehow knowing that the revelation was having a bad effect on the younger. Despite the bastard status, he had never looked down on him, and had gotten into numerous arguments with Catelyn on letting him into some lessons. It took years, but she eventually relented on some, which was a compromise he had accepted. Jon didn't know that though, he had assumed at the time that she was beginning to warm up to him, but he didn't need to know more to it than that.

So much anger was building up inside of him. Of himself, to the Lady, to the man he had called father, to his birth parents, to everyone really. Even if Ned had told him that she had died giving birth to him, the sting may have hurt less. But he didn't, he let him have the belief that she was still out there and he may one day meet her. For someone who held onto honour as closely as Ned had, it was ironic. Yes, his goal was honourable, but what he did to keep it a secret was not. He had lied to everyone. Himself, his wife, his people, his children, his goodfamily, the entire realm.

He did it to protect him.

Those six words were circling around in his head, seemingly mocking him as time went on. Almost immediately, he suddenly felt compassion for Catelyn which was saying something considering she had made her hatred well known for as long as he could remember. Ned had forced her into taking in someone she believed to be a product of cheating- something that was looked down upon badly by her faith. Then everything bubbled over. Robb was startled as tears welled up in his eyes, never remembering seeing Jon cry before and he had no idea how to help him as he was just in as much shock as he was.

Ned had no right to have him believe his mother was alive. He had no right to not speak to Lyanna in front of everyone. He had no right to keep up the horrid lie that she had been kidnapped. He had no right to everything he did to sell the lie other than promising to tell him when he turned sixteen. Jon felt guilt ebb deep inside of him for feeling like this towards the man who had risked everything to raise him, but some of his actions could not be excused. Whilst the Lord had never openly agreed with the rumours surrounding Lyanna and Rhaegar, he didn't deny them either. Letting people believe his mother was taken against her will and her virtue taken from her forcefully? That was an insult to his little sister of the highest grade. 

Then there was the whole thing with Rhaegar and Robert. Why had he never condemned Robert over spreading the lie? Was he really doing it to protect his sisters secret or was he doing it to protect the man who he considered another brother? If it were the second, he had no idea if he would be able to forgive him, and there was no way to truly know. He's had sixteen years now to perfect the lie, it would be almost impossible to find the truth in amongst the web of deceit. If Ned had sided with Robert in it all, then it meant he supported the murder of his siblings, their mother, his father, and his mother's death was in vain. He simply shook his head, knowing this was something he needed to think long and hard on.

"Can't sleep."

"I'd be surprised if you could. So, can I see the sword?"

Jon let out a small snort before opening his furs to reveal the sword. The look that overcame the slightly older very much akin to a child getting a lifetime supply of their favourite treat. He unbuckled it and handed it to Robb, who took it earnestly and began to examine it. For something that was hundreds of years old, it looked brand new apart from the sheath. This was the only part of it that showed just how old it was. Bits of leather faded and creases in it. 

"What am I going to do? If I out myself then I'm signing myself up for numerous assassins sent my way. If I don't out myself, the secret may get out because you'll all know. Anyone could overhear- "

"Jon, breath. I'm not going to pretend I know what you're going through, but you need to think on this long and hard. Winter is coming."

That seemed to break the ice and both began laughing quietly. Robb gave the sword back to Jon who immediately concealed it again. Both headed over to their quarters in silence. If Robb knew, that meant Sansa knew too. The others he wasn't sure if the Lord and Lady had told. How Lady Catelyn was going to treat him worried him greatly. The Tully's were known for their hatred of Targaryen's, and her hatred of him already ran deep. How had she reacted? She's avoided him the entire day but that wasn't unusual for her. In her words, the less time around the bastard the less she will be corrupted. But he wasn't a bastard, he was a damn Prince. Or was he? Rhaegar was the crowned Prince, meaning he was supposed to be King after Aerys died. And it's the heir's eldest male who inherited afterwards. His siblings were murdered. He halted in shock at this, Robb looking to him with wariness. He signalled him into his room and shut the door behind him.

"Robb, you know what this means don't you?"

Hesitantly, he nodded, but from the confused expression he wore Jon knew he did not.

"My grandfather was King, and my father crowned Prince. What is the right of succession?"

The older sat down at his desk as Jon put the sword back into the chest before locking it. 

"The eldest heir takes over once the monarch is dead- wait. Jon you're not the damn heir, you're- "

"Technically the King of the Seven Kingdoms."

It was only now everything clicked into place for the boys. Both were heirs, but to completely different things. One knew from the moment they began shadowing Lord Stark, and the other only found out hours before. Jon immediately sat down and covered his face with his hands, overwhelming emotions coming over him. He hated how he was treated as a bastard; how would he react if he were treated as the heir of someone the entire realm hated? Aerys was mad, there was no denying that. Seven hells, Rhaegar's letters confirmed even he was aware his father was long gone if he was plotting to remove him forcefully and banish him. If he were going to say anything on it, who would believe him? What did it mean for him to be a Targaryen in the first place? There were only two who survived and they were gods-know-where in Essos. Of course, he could try, but it was unlikely. Essos was a much larger continent than Westeros was, they could be anywhere. Robb watched as the younger thought everything through, only being able to imagine the turmoil he was going through. One thing was certain though, he was taking it well. 

"Robb, please treat me as your brother still. I really need to think on this."

The older opened his mouth to but in, but he was silenced with a single glare from the younger. Why would he not want to press on it? The boy was the most important person in the damn continent! 

"I don't know anything about ruling, I don't know anything about command, I don't know much about politics as your Lady mother never allowed me into these classes, I don't know how alliances are made. Heck, I don't know if I even want to do this. My whole life I've wanted to know who my mother was yet the entire time she's been under my feet? My whole life I've wanted to be a Stark when I've always been a Targaryen?"

This clicked it in place for the older. He was terrified, rightfully so. Who wouldn't be in his position?

"I need to know what it means to be what I am before I decide anything, Robb. According to uncle Benjen, there is a Targaryen at the wall serving as maester. I think I need to make a trip next time he comes down to speak to the man myself."

"You can't mean Aemon surely? Isn't he past his one hundredth name-day?"

Jon simply bowed his head, doing the sums quickly in his head. He must be, if he was Rhaegar's twice great uncle, then he must be his thrice great uncle. An impressive feat, not many people lived to be that old. But from the fond way Benjen spoke of him, he knew he wasn't insane and had peoples interests to heart. The pair stayed up for most of the night but just before the sun peeked up Robb left to go to his own room in case his mother would be angry with him. He remembered how he had felt when he was told the truth. Sorrow for his brother, annoyance for his father for keeping it from them and their mother, and pitiful for everyone involved. He'd always worshipped the King he was named after, yet if the man knew Jon existed he would assassinate him. He is a Stark. And when the lone wolf dies, the pack survives. He would do all he could to help Jon, he was going to need it. 

The next couple of months were a massive blur. Jon sparred harder than he ever had, and he was allowed into politics lessons. The Septa had scoffed when he had appeared but with a stern look from the Lord and Lady she had kept her distaste for herself. Lady Catelyn was still harsh on him as it's impossible to undo sixteen years of hatred- but she was nowhere near as bad. She'd began letting the boy be seen in public outings, eat close to the high table and not in the back hidden from sight. The only one who still shunned him was Sansa. Ned had pulled her aside and asked why she was acting like this. Her response was that Robert had successfully claimed the throne and therefore Jon had no right and should be treated like a Targaryen. This had led to a grounding much to the red-haired girl's protests, but he was not having it. Ever since then, Sansa had openly avoided him. If she were close to him she would move to be away from him. It didn't affect Jon in any way considering she had always shunned him as she was desperate to emulate her Lady mother, but he couldn't deny it did hurt. 

Then a troubling raven came from Last Hearth. Another deserter of the Night's Watch, and the man had been escorted to the Barrowlands near Winterfell. There seemed to be one every other week now. The boys all saddled up and tried to hold in chuckles at how small Bran looked on his pony against their stallions. Jon and Robb were used to this as they had been coming with Ned since they were nine name-days old like Bran is right now. Like usual, a race broke out from the eldest kids which had their other companions snorting in amusement. Both boys couldn't deny the exhilaration that came with feeling the wind rush through your hair or the adrenaline that came with dodging branches and potholes. They knew the woods so well that they barely even needed to look for them. 

Once everyone had caught up to them, everyone stared in bewilderment at the man seated next to the block. His hair was long and matted, his cloak ripped to pieces as if he had either fought out of his fate or had been running from something and didn't look to see where he was going. His face was hollow and gaunt. But it was his eyes, those eyes looked like they had seen the worst horror known to man. Lord Eddard got off his horse and walked towards him and began questioning him. A few smiles broke out when he began talking about Others. Others had been dead for almost eight thousand years; they were no threat to Westeros. Everyone concluding it was Wildlings. Only thing is, the other deserters had said the same thing. Was there something more to it? 

"Don't look away, your father will know if you do."

Robb smiled as he heard the quiet words Jon spoke to Bran. Quiet enough that no one else would hear because only them and Howland Reed knew the truth. Bran set his face still but he was incredibly nervous. He's never witnessed a beheading before. He just hoped he could keep food down upon seeing the blood. After passing the sentence, Lord Eddard wasted no time in unsheathing Ice and bringing it down on the man's neck. In one clean swoop, his head was off. Bran cringed a little, the sight of a bloodied stump where the head had been attached gruesome. No one else batted an eyelid at the sight. 

All rose in formation after this, the sombre feeling over they had just witnessed taking out the joy that a race would. No matter how many times it is seen, seeing someone die before oneself is a horrible thing. Anyone who takes joy in taking a life is horrible. The journey back to Winterfell was approximately an hour, so there was plenty of time to think. It was only when they were entering the Wolfswood nearby that something seemed to stir. Jon couldn't describe the feeling he had. Almost like a pull from an invisible string towards the side. From the look Robb was giving him, he knew he felt it too. With that, the pair rode over the bridge towards whatever it was, ignoring the shouts of the other members of their party. Soon, a scent neither could place invaded their nostrils and made them want to gag. Forcing themselves not to, they soon found the source of the stench and a startled yelp from Robb broke the silence. It was a wolf, which wasn't unusual to find, but it was the size of it. It was almost the size of their horses, the head alone being a good two foot in length.

"Is that?"

"A direwolf? I think so brother."

A sense of awe overcame them and both got down from their horses to inspect it. From the amount of blood surrounding it, they knew it was dead. But what in the woods could kill something of this size? Direwolves had not been seen south of the wall for hundreds of years, long thought to be extinct now. But here one was. The source of its death was found soon from the giant antler wedged in its neck. 

"Robb, get away from it!"

Both jumped a little and turned to their party.

"It's dead, it can't harm us."

Everyone was looking at them with terror, all seemingly realising exactly what this beast was. Whilst they were talking, a noise caught Jon's attention. He walked towards it and when he did, surprise took over. Pups. Five of them. All suckling to their dead mother trying to get milk. Carefully he picked one up, in complete awe over how soft its fur was. The eyes were not opened yet, meaning they were days old. Did their mother die protecting her pups? He went down the line of them, noticing there were three males and two females. Direwolves, found near Winterfell, the seat of House Stark. 

"Jon put it down!"

He jumped in surprise before looking up to Jory Cassell who had his sword out. When Bran saw what he had, he let out an excited squeal and ran over. Robb picked one up as well and handed one to the younger before picking up another. Jon heard the others talking whether to leave them or even kill them. When Bran heard this, tears were threatening to fall but he refused to let them fall in front of the adults. 

"Lord Stark."

The way Jon had said it broke the bickering as they eyed him and the wriggling pup in his arms. 

"There are five pups. Three males and two females. You have three trueborn sons and two daughters. The direwolf is the sigil of your house."

Ned's eye twitched at what he was doing. Yes, they knew the truth, but the others did not. Jon was deliberately singling himself out so the count was correct. He wasn't a Stark; he was a Targaryen. His sigil is a red three-headed dragon on a black background. Dragons were more recently extinct, but they were. 

"You will feed them yourselves, and you will take care of them yourselves, and if they die, you will bury them yourselves."

With that, some people got down from their horses to take one of the pups each. It was when he was about to swing up into the saddle that he heard another yelp. He stepped down at this and walked towards it. Like expected, he found another pup. This one clearly the runt of the litter as it was pure white compared to the grey/black of the others. And its eyes, they were blood red. The only one that had opened its eyes. The deep red against the white very much reminding Jon of the heart trees in the Weirwood.

"Looks like I have got one."

Theon snorted and made a jape over it being the runt and Jon being the runt of the Stark's. He stopped doing so with a single furious glare from Eddard. Theon had come into their care as a hostage disguised as a ward after Balon Greyjoy's failed attempt at claiming independence. He only done so after all but one son was alive, and the man was far too prideful to name his daughter Asha his heir whilst he had a son. Despite him being a hostage, Eddard tried to treat him the same as he did his own children and his nephew, but he always made it clear why he was there. If Balon ever retaliated, Theon's head would come clean off. 

The pups all whined at the fast movement of the horses, everyone carrying one trying their best to shush them, but it was no easy task. Even as pups, they were half the size of a full-grown regular wolf. However, there was no biting, scratching, or any negative behaviour. They seemed to know they were taking them in to care for them. When they arrived back at the castle, there were startled yelps of everyone in the courtyards, but none quite so loud as Catelyn. Every time they left to carry out a sentence, she was always waiting on them returning.

"Ned, what in seven hells- "

"Direwolf pups, Cat. Six of them. One for each child."

Now, there were more stunned gasps and gaping jaws as they took in the animals. Hesitantly, all carrying one stepped down making sure they were secure. She knew of Direwolves of course, she was faced with banners with them every day, but seeing one in the flesh? When they were thought to be extinct in Westeros? Steadily, she walked over to her husband who was carrying one that was pure black and appeared to be struggling. Whether that be to break free or to garner attention, none could tell. As she peered down at the tiny creature, there was no denying how adorable it was. With the jet-black colouring of its fur, it looked like a bear cub. But there was no denying the curved ears and long nose that were characteristic of a wolf. 

"My love, we need to talk."

Ned gave her a weird look at this before nodding. With a single glance towards Vayon Poole, the man carefully took the pup as the Lord followed his Lady to the godswood. Catelyn never felt welcome here, her being of the faith, but she respected her husband's beliefs. He had even gone to the extent of having a small sept built for her so she could pray if need be. Ned sat down on a large rock as he contemplated everything that had happened. Every time without fail, whenever he had to carry out a sentence, he had to cleanse himself. He always did so by allowing himself some time alone with his sacred gods. 

"A raven came today, Ned. From Kings Landing. I'm so sorry, but Jon Arryn is dead. A fever took him in his sleep."

It took a few minutes for her words to register, and when they did, he felt a tightness inside him he knew all too well. Jon Arryn had been like a father to him, had raised him at the Eyrie alongside Robert Baratheon. Curse the other, but he could never outwardly say he despised Robert. How could he not after how he had acted with Lyanna? Over how he had rejoiced at being presented with the murdered bodies of babes and a woman who did nothing other than lay with her husband? Jon was elderly, and he was his goodbrother. His marriage to Catelyn's sister Lysa despite him being thrice her age at the time of the union. 

"A fever?"

She simply nodded.

"Maester Pycelle tried to save him when he first took signs a few days before, he says in the letter it burned through him too fast to be stopped. He said he wouldn't have felt any pain."

She simply bit her lip as she took in his reaction. The way he was staring at the ground very much reminding her of her nephew, but it was gone in a second. Never in her life did she think she would ever be hospitable to a Targaryen, but he was the last piece of Lyanna her husband had, and she would grant him it as was her duty as a wife and a Lady. But one boy's legitimate birth would never undo decades of brewing tensions between the high lords and the dragon royals. She'd hated him when she thought he was Ned's bastard, but since he told her the truth, she had realised the error of her ways. But for appearances sake to protect the truth, she still didn't treat him brilliantly, but she was trying. 

"There's something else, my love."

He looked at her now with complete sorrow, his feelings taking over the characteristic stony face of a Stark. She handed the scroll over that had been delivered by raven not long after he had left. She had no idea how he would take this in, knowing he treaded on thin ice with the King.

Eddard Stark.

Lord of Winterfell.

I am writing to inform my old friend Eddard of the House Stark, Lord of Winterfell, to alert him of a visit. I shall be leaving with my wife, children, and entourage in the next few days and expect to arrive within the month. 

Robert Baratheon.

King of the Andals, the Rhoynar, and the First Men. Lord of the Seven Kingdoms, and protector of the realm.

This was too much, too much in one go. First, a deserter speaking of Others. Secondly, finding direwolf pups which have long been considered extinct in Westeros for hundreds of years. Third, his wife made him aware that his foster father had died of a fever. Now Robert Baratheon was coming north with his Queen, children, and an entourage. Ned had not seen Robert since the Greyjoy rebellion, the pair had little to no communication with one another. From what people have said in passing, he was not the person Ned remembered at all. 

Was this a good thing or a bad thing though? Had he finally had his temper humbled and wouldn't want to murder babes to strengthen his claim? Or was it the other way? It took approximately ten days for a raven to fly from Kings Landing to Winterfell, meaning the man was already on his way. There was no stopping him now, and there was no doubt Queen Cersei would take kindly to a rejection due to her title. The Lannister woman had always shown she was a miniature Tywin, but she had much more of a temper. How Robert had not set her aside yet amazed Ned. Their marriage was nothing but volatile. 

"I guess we had better prepare for a reception, my Lady."

"And the boy?"

The Lord simply let out a loud sigh at this before thinking carefully. Since Jon had been told the truth, he had made it no secret that he detested Robert for what he had done to his siblings and would've done to him if it got out. He had a temper as well, his wolf blood and dragon blood inherited from both sides of the family.

"I'll speak to him, make sure he doesn't do anything that will look bad on us."

Catelyn simply nodded at this before leaving the godswood. He sat there for what must've been hours before making his way back. Much to his amusement, he made it back in time to catch the boys training. Jon was now beating Ser Rodrik frequently, and if rumours were true from the servants, was asking to be trained with dual swords like Ser Arthur Dayne had done. Robb was coming into his own as well, developing a completely different style from his cousin. The Targaryen being fast and vicious, the Stark being strong and cunning. The pair of them would be formidable in battle together. He glanced around the training yard and had to stifle a laugh at spotting Arya sticking her head out of a crevice so she could watch. Once she spotted him though, she disappeared elsewhere. He asked his nephew to visit him in his solar once he was done. Something which confused the master at arms. He knew something had happened within the family, but he couldn't deny it was a welcome change. 

"You asked to speak with me uncle?"

Since he had told him, he had begun speaking in a more regal tone. Very much beginning to accept that he was the rightful heir. Whether he had decided if he was going to act on the claim was still up in the air. He didn't want glory, didn't want to rule people. But Ned knew, if something bad happened, he would do so in a heartbeat to protect those he loved. 

"What's this I'm hearing of you asking Ser Rodrik train you with dual swords?"

From the faint blush that crossed the youngers face, he knew the rumours were true.

"I've been reading up a lot on Kingsguards and other respected knights. Those who are most known wielded two, and not many people bother with doing so. I've been training my left hand with writing and other things to begin getting used to doing so. I've gotten to a point now where it's almost boring to train with someone I can now easily beat, and I want to try other things."

Ned simply nodded at this, the reasoning making sense. But he caught the hidden message in the words. When he said Kingsguard and knight, he knew he was trying to emulate the man who had died protecting him when he was just born. Even now, he felt guilty over the dishonourable slaying of Ser Arthur. Even more so when it was made known that Ashara had thrown herself from the highest tower in Starfall in her grief. 

"I'll speak to him and see if he can do so, but I will make you aware Ser Rodrik has not used dual swords in a long time so he will not be very up to par. I'll also see if I can hire someone with more skill to challenge you better. But that's not why I asked you here."

Jon quirked an eyebrow at his uncle's words. Ned hesitated a little before handing over the scroll that was brought. As he read, he felt a heat deep inside of him bubble up. It was very minimal, but the elder caught it. 

"We received it this morning whilst away, and with the amount of time it takes ravens to go from the capital to here, he'll already be well on his way. We cannot stop it. I would if I could, but I cannot without creating a revolt."

Jon huffed loudly before closing his eyes. He knew he would need to keep his anger in line, but how was he going to do that? He was going to face the man that spread the vicious lie that his mother had been kidnapped and raped because he didn't want to admit she didn't love him back, the man who had rejoiced at the murder of his siblings, and the man who was known for hiring numerous sellswords and assassins to take out his aunt Daenerys and uncle Viserys in Essos. For all he knew, one of them had been successful as there had been no news on his relatives across the narrow sea in years. He hoped they were still alive; he'd like to meet them. 

"Ok, I'll try and stay away from him in case he recognises my father in me, and if I do come into his presence I vow to keep my anger in check. I have one request though."

The Lord nodded in acceptance, knowing that was as close to a 'I will not cause trouble' he was going to get from him. 

"I want to go to the Wall. Not to take the black, but to speak with Maester Aemon. He may be my only family member left from that side, and I've heard uncle Benjen say the old man is lonely. I think he deserves to know I exist, and his vows bound him from revealing the truth as he cannot interfere with the politics of Westeros."

It was a simple enough request. It took a week to ride to Castle Black from Winterfell going by the Kings Road. He could go and be back in enough time for Robert arriving. He wasn't stupid either, he knew Jon wanted to go to get insight on his heritage. And who better to ask about said heritage than someone who had denied the crown himself and handed it to his little brother? 

"That can be arranged, and who would you like to accompany you?"

"Either you or the Lady, uncle."

This stunned him. He expected him to name him, but he didn't expect for him to name Catelyn. Yes, she was much more tolerable of him as of late, but she was far from loving. 

"There must always be a Stark in Winterfell, uncle. My cousins are all too young for such a responsibility except perhaps Robb. You may not be able to go, and if that's the case, I would like her to come. She is of the south, and I was born in the south, and my family mostly followed the seven. I don't know about my thrice great uncle's faith, but he may take it as an insult if you came."

As much as he wanted to deny it, Jon's logic was sound. Yes, Catelyn was a Stark in marriage, but she would always be a Tully and a devout follower of the Seven. He understood the implications that the younger was making. His wife was liked well enough, but the Lords of the North may take it as an insult if she were running the keep in his footsteps. There have been times where the keep has been left to her for a couple of days, but longer than a fortnight may be pushing things. 

"I'll ask her and bring Robb with you as well. It's time he begins learning things."

Jon seemed like he was about to retort, but as he thought on it, he knew the Lord was correct. He couldn't come with him the whole way, and he wasn't sure if he trusted the Lady wholly yet. Having Robb there would be the buffer if things did go sour between them. With a simple nod, both left the room. When Ned found his wife in her rooms, she was sewing something and humming lowly to herself. She looked up upon hearing the door creek open and when she spotted her husband a large smile overtook her. To say she was shocked at what he had come to ask of her was an understatement. She's now come to terms with everything but she knew she had to play it safe. If the secret got out, the realm would go into its biggest state of chaos to date. As much as she had hated the boy for almost his entire life, she would not force him into something he didn't want to do. 

The next morning all were saddled up alongside two guards, making their way out of Winterfell. The furthest north Catelyn had ever been was to Last Hearth, but they were travelling further out than this. Robb on the other hand was finding it difficult to hold in his excitement. When Jon was talking of going to the wall before he found everything out, the Stark heir had made him aware he always wanted to see it himself. A wall said to be built by their ancestor almost eight thousand years prior spanning the entire width of the continent and over seven hundred feet in height. He was also excited to see his uncle Benjen again, having not seen him for many moons as he couldn't make it for his name-day. 

The ride seemed to go on forever. The Kings Road here being completely unkempt as very few people used it anymore. Numerous vines, bushes, potholes, and too many animals blocking their path. Luckily, the summer snows had been pleasant to them, not laying more than a couple of inches in the ground. On the sixth day, the wall finally came into their lines of vision and those who had never seen it before eyes widened to comical widths. Even Catelyn had to stop herself from doing so. Her entire life she's only ever seen it as the place where murderers and rapists loomed, but there was no denying the beauty that was the wall. Made of pure ice and bound together by ancient spells that had been lost thousands of years ago, spanning as far as the eye could see. 

The castle they were approaching however, left little to be desired. Parts of it had fallen into ruin, other parts on the brink of being so as well, and the liveable portions were not much at all. A raven had been sent ahead when they left so that the occupants knew they were to be expected. But Catelyn did not expect to be faced with someone she recognised. She did not know him well, but she could recognise that face anywhere.

"It has been a few years, Ser Alliser. Never thought I'd see you here."

Both boys looked to her oddly at this, not expecting those words to come out of her mouth. They sized the man up. Easily in his mid-forties, a few wrinkles showing on his skin, his hair missing a few patches and the parts that were not already grey. He tightened his lips at her words, clearly taking the insult that was intended. 

"It has indeed, Lady Stark."

The words certainly had a bite to them, and it was not missed by anyone there. These two clearly had history together, and not a good history. Once inside, there was again little to be desired. The Nights Watch members all leering their way as if they blamed them for their own actions that led to them being here. However, it was one friendly face that broke out the smiles. Both boys got off their horses as Benjen walked over to them to engulf them in a tight hug. The Lady followed soon after and she let a small blush come onto her cheeks as he kissed her hand as was custom. 

"What brings you all here?"

Catelyn simply glanced towards Jon for a split second and her goodbrother understood. He was the only other person who knew, Ned not being able to keep it a secret from his own brother after he had told them the truth.

"The boys can share a room with me, and we'll find something suitable for you goodsister. Come, lets catch up."

Everyone else seemed to understood the implications of his words as they all went back to their tasks. The room they were led to was easily one of the nicer ones, but it was not much better than the worst room in Winterfell. Once the door was shut, the ranger turned to face them all individually before focusing on Jon. To say Benjen was shocked when he received the raven from his older brother revealing everything was an understatement, but when he did read it, it all made sense. Lyanna was never sickly, and she was way too headstrong to allow herself to be kidnapped and raped. She would've drove a dagger through anyone even attempting to do so. He never really believed it, but he didn't know much else other than this. 

"I don't know how I never saw it; you look exactly like her. Just a few differing facial features which you clearly inherited from your father. What brings you all here?"

Catelyn and Robb both turned to Jon now, them knowing it had to be him who told his uncle.

"You said the Maester here is a Targaryen. For all I know he might be the only family I have left from that side of my heritage. You've also said the old man is lonely, I think he deserves to know he isn't the last Targaryen."

Benjen simply nodded in understanding. It was true Aemon was lonely and often despaired if Viserys and Daenerys were still alive as they hadn't heard from them in many years. He'll be absolutely delighted when he finds out he has a family member only a week's ride away. At that moment, the Lord Commander appeared and Benjen asked if he could give Catelyn and Robb a tour. The old bear simply nodded but shot a confused look towards Jon. Catelyn took the offer, but Robb decided he wanted to watch on to make sure nothing happens between the long-lost relatives. They were led to one of the towers that wasn't falling apart like the others were. 

Benjen entered a room to alert the maester he had visitors, and a withered voice broke the silence. Jon took a deep breath and Robb simply placed a hand delicately on his shoulder to give him support. Their uncle came out again and advised they could go inside and he would keep a watch outside for any eavesdroppers or unwelcome people. This talk could not be overheard. Upon entering, all breath seemed to escape the younger boy. The man seated at the table was incredibly old, his eyes milky white proving his blindness, and his silver hair short and unkempt. It was hard to tell if it was Targaryen silver or if it had just turned that colour due to his age. Aemon felt something, a pull almost. Something he only experienced once, the feeling he had felt when his twice great nephew Rhaegar had come to visit. But Rhaegar was dead, the remaining Targaryen's likely dead, so why was he feeling this?

"Maester, what I'm about to tell you sounds crazy but it's the truth. I believe I'm your thrice great nephew, Jaeron. Last son of Rhaegar Targaryen and only son of Lyanna Stark."

His head snapped up and immediately turned to Jon which surprised Robb. How did he know where to look when he couldn't see? Steadily, both boys sat down in front of him and Jon was struggling to keep his tears at bay. The maester reached his hands out delicately and with a simple hum from Jon, he gently touched his face. The features felt so familiar to him, and he remembered a raven that had been sent of the Prince intending to marry the Stark woman after agreeing to an annulment with Elia. 

"You've got your father's face. A face I never thought I'd see or feel again."

There was the confirmation. Robb smiled softly at the pair, only being able to imagine what they were feeling as they were reunited. He looked around the room and was pleasantly surprised by how ordinary it was. Considering the man in the room with them had been offered a crown but he had rejected it as he had already taken his vows as a Maester at that point, it was strange. There were numerous cabinets with too many pieces of paper and a large chest that looked like the one Jon's proof of identity was in. 

"I'm only a week's ride away uncle, you're not alone in the world."

"A Targaryen alone in the world is a terrible thing nephew."

They knew the saying, but neither wanted to speak it aloud in case it offended him. 

"Tell me, how has King Robert not found you yet?"

"My uncle Eddard took me in as his bastard son to keep me safe. He swore a vow to my mother to do so and he would tell me the truth on my sixteenth name-day. King Robert does not know. The only people who do are my cousins, my uncles, my aunt, Howland Reed, and now yourself."

Robb swears he heard a short snort of laughter come from the elderly male at these words. He couldn't deny it was funny. Robert Baratheon wanted all Targaryen's dead yet there's two he cannot get his hands on. One because they are bound here in their vows, and the other because nobody knew he existed. It was a very elaborate scheme and he cannot deny he was proud of his father for being able to pull it off. Aemon stood up and walked over to the chest. Both realising what he was doing, stood up and helped him bring it over to the desk. The clinks of the numerous links breaking the silence. 

"And who might this other young man be accompanying you?"

Robb's eyes widened again, how did he know he was male? Clearly there's more to the man than the eyes see.

"My name is Robb Stark, maester Aemon. Cousin to Jaeron and nephew to Rhaegar through marriage."

It was odd of him to say that aloud. But it was true. For most of his life he had hated the dragon Prince over what he had supposedly done to his aunt Lyanna. But they were married, which meant he was related to him and did not simply share a relative in Jon. 

"Your father and I sent numerous letters to one another. Would you like to see them? Although I must admit they are in our mother tongue. I'm not sure if- "

"I can read it relatively well, and Jon is learning now."

The beaming smile that appeared on the elderly man lifted any tension there was in the air away. Robb was far from fluent in High Valyrian, but he understood it well enough. And considering very few people alive spoke the language in Westeros, they would be safe. He opened a drawer and took out a wad of letters before handing them over to Robb. All were dated, and all signed by hand by Rhaegar. Much to his surprise, there was also one from Queen Rhaella. He read them to the best of his ability, asking for help whenever he got stuck on a word or phrase. They confirmed the rumours that had circulated around Rhaegar. He had been plotting to overthrow his father, and his mother was in on it secretly. The late Queen was willingly helping their son overthrow her own brother as she knew he would be a better King. The last one broke Jon's heart when he heard it. One from the Queen sent from Dragonstone after she had fled with her son and heavily pregnant with Daenerys. Ser Willem Darry had been the one to smuggle them out of the Red Keep safely. 

"Your father did not deserve the death he got, and King Robert most certainly did not have the right to claim something as preposterous as kidnap and rape when there was no proof. Kill the boy Jon Snow, and let the man Jaeron Targaryen be born."

The younger frowned at the words, not understanding what they meant. But he simply agreed quietly to ease the old man's mind. 

"I've kept these in my possession for many years nephew. Your father entrusted these to me as he was certain a Targaryen would appear here someday."

He eyed the chest beside him, giving both boys permission to open it. What was in here? It was much smaller than the one Jon had, but still a decent size. Once the latch was opened and the lid raised though, Robb's mouth fell open in awe.

"Are those?"

"Dragon eggs. Two of them. Rhaegar went through great trouble to get them."

Robb bent down to pick one up. Being sapphire-blue in colour with pewter-grey spots on it. The other being mostly silver with red and black spots on it. The egg was stone-cold, confirming the creature inside was dead and probably had been for over a century. But it was beautiful to look at. Jon on the other hand had a different reaction to his brother. He couldn't describe the pull he felt towards the silver one at all. The only feeling that came somewhat close was when they had found the direwolf pups. Steadily, he touched it before jumping back in surprise. The egg was warm. Robb gave him a funny look and asking why he had done so.

"The egg is hot, isn't that one?"

Robb shook his head, both boys missing the bright smile on Aemon's face. There was no denying the boy had Valyrian heritage. He too felt how hot the eggs were, and he felt the life inside of them. But he was bound by his vows to remain away from politics, therefore he could not hatch the eggs as that would be an act of rebellion. The older boy leaned down to pick up the other one and frowned in confusion, it was cold to the touch. Like the other one. What was Jon on about? Steadily, the younger took it back off his cousin and that was when he felt the movement inside. 

"Robb; touch it now. But do not take it off me."

He did so willingly and his eyes widened again at the feeling. There was no denying it now, this one was alive. Hesitantly, the silver one was placed back into the chest and Robb handed over the blue one. The pull was still there, but nowhere near as strong. But this one was also warm to the touch, and he could feel the movement inside.

"They're alive. Actual dragons."


	5. IV

Jaeron II

The shock of being given live dragon eggs wore off surprisingly quickly. The maester had agreed to keep them hidden in his room until it came time to leave back to Winterfell. Where was he going to keep eggs? It's not like they were unrecognisable artefacts, everyone in Westeros knew dragons had died out after the Targaryen civil war over a hundred years prior. The Dance of Dragons it was called, where Queen Rhaenyra Targaryen proclaimed war on her half-brother for claiming himself King despite their father making it clear in the will she was meant to take over. Dragon against dragon, sibling against sibling, family against family. The few dragons that had hatched after the dreaded dance was completed had been malformed or been abnormally small. It was said the last living dragon had been the size of a common house cat. 

But he couldn't keep them here. Something that incredible shouldn't remain hidden from the entire world. Would he hatch them? If so, how big would they grow to be? Would he become a dragon rider like many of his ancestors had been? Yes, Jon was a fair rider, even being nicknamed centaur by some. A moniker that had been used to describe his mother. But dragons brought great destruction as well as they brought greatness. He shook his head before meeting with his uncle in his solar. Benjen and Catelyn were aware of what the Maester had gifted to him, but neither voiced their opinion. The Lady was still wary of him. Her family had openly supported Robert Baratheon after all, and it was a hard pill to swallow that it had been done on a false claim. Then again, the war never really broke out until Rickard and Brandon were murdered. But they wouldn't have been murdered if the truth reached them. 

Rickard Stark was a proud man, but it was known he loved his children deeply. Hence why betrothals were in place with people from the South. Lyanna to Robert, and Brandon to Catelyn. He wouldn't have been happy with Lyanna doing what she did, but the match she found herself in was incredibly advantageous and he would've used this to his advantage. They had tried to get the truth out though, truth that never came to fruition. Deep down, Jon knew that if the letters were received they wouldn't have been ignored. One letter being lost in transit is common, two not uncommon but not likely, but more than this? It only meant one thing. Someone was either not sending the letters out when being asked, or they were all intercepted and not delivered. One would've been sent to Robert and his family, one would've been sent North to Rickard, and another would've been sent to Aerys. This was at the least, there may have been more sent out to other paramount's or lesser lords to inform them.

"Have you decided what you're going to do yet, nephew?"

Jon snapped out of his thoughts and shook his head in the negative.

"Honestly, uncle, I want nothing to do with that throne. I don't want to be a leader or a ruler. I'd prefer to just simply be there, but that will not happen because my name is either respected or feared by everyone in Westeros. I'll need to prove myself and who knows what I'll be forced to do for duty if it came to it."

Benjen reached out a hand and placed it on his shoulder. Now that he was really looking at the boy his brother claimed was his bastard, the resemblance to the boy's real parents was uncanny. He certainly didn't look Targaryen at a first glance, or even a second glance. He looked Stark through and through. Only those who were closest to Rhaegar would recognise the deceased Prince in him the similarities were so little. The only trait he did openly have were his lilac eyes, but even these turned grey on occasion like his mothers were. 

"You don't even need to out yourself, cousin. You could continue to go on as Jon Snow for as long as you wish and nobody would be none the wiser apart from us."

Robb's response had been simple enough, but Catelyn simply shook her head. 

"People will eventually grow suspicious, Robb. Most people know I've not exactly been pleasant to him, so if they see me acting nice to him like I've been trying to do- it will raise suspicions. I'd imagine Jon will want to send correspondence to Maester Aemon, which again will raise suspicions. Yes, it could be done through Benjen, but people in the Nights Watch would eventually catch on and send responding letters back. And in case you're forgetting, he has live dragon eggs, Robb. You felt it much like I did. They will likely hatch, and nobody would be able to hide two dragons."

Robb sank back in his seat as the truth of his mother's words sank in. It was true that she was trying harder to be nicer to Jon, but it's not a change that can happen overnight. She's tolerable of him now, but that's the extent of it. Perhaps in time she would grow to care for him as he was rightfully her nephew. And she was right about his newest addition. It would be practically impossible to hide growing dragons if they did hatch. Aemon had told him the key to doing so was with their words- fire and blood. But that was about it. No other guidance could be given as the Targaryen's were very secretive on how they managed to do so. If stories were true, one had hatched after being placed in its rider's crib not long after they were born. The only possible place they could be kept hidden would be in the crypts as nobody but the Starks were allowed down there unless given authorisation by Eddard directly. 

"And you're also forgetting that we are expecting a visit soon from someone who would not hesitate to send hundreds of assassins after him if the truth got out- "

At this, Benjen promptly spat out a mouthful of ale which disgusted the Lady but she hid it mostly. 

"Robert Baratheon coming to the North? What is he coming for?"

The older male was looking at the three of them with surprise, but he wasn't the only one. The King hadn't made an appearance in the North since the Greyjoy rebellion, and he only went somewhere if he was getting something. 

"With the raven we received confirming Jon Arryn's death being received on the same day, my guess is he's coming here to find himself a new hand. Ned may not be favourable to him with everything that happened and the huge threat he poses to Lyanna's only son and he doesn't trust the Queen with a single ounce of his body. But Robert doesn't know this. Or maybe he does and he's just being stubborn as usual. He was aware Lyanna loved Rhaegar and not him, and he spread that lie out of jealousy and spite."

To say the boys were stunned at Catelyn's words was an understatement. She always drilled it into their minds to treat royalty with respect, and she was doing the opposite of that. Everyone knew the reputation of the Queen, but for the most part the King was loved. Robb knew she was saying these things as she was fiercely protective over her own children and her husband. Because if Robert did find out and that Ned had deliberately kept it a secret- he would be labelled a traitor and executed without hesitation. His cousins would likely be held as hostages, but Robert's temper was famous, he may do the full deed. Catelyn may face the same. And Jon? He would be murdered in the worst way he could imagine. It was known that the King had rejoiced and stated that he saw nought but Dragonspawn when presented with the bodies of his siblings. 

"Thank the gods that you inherited little of your father look wise, nephew. Gods help us if you got his silver hair or purple eyes- "

"But my eyes are lilac, uncle Benjen. It's just that they appear grey in dim lighting- "

"Which Winterfell has in abundance."

Jon shut up at this, knowing it to be true. If people did see the colour of his eyes, they never said otherwise. He would be well and truly fucked if that was the case. Very few people had Valyrian traits. It was known the Dayne's did, but there were hardly any left. The Velaryon's did, but they were on the opposite side of the continent on an island near Dragonstone. The Celtigars did, but they kept to themselves and rarely interfered with politics. The others were minor houses that didn't hold much merit. There would be no hiding from it. 

"We'll just need to play it the most obvious way possible. Even though we all know Jon is legitimate, hardly anyone else does. As a bastard, for courtesy reasons, he will need to kept in the back. I highly doubt Queen Cersei will appreciate being faced with what she considers scum."

All were quiet as they absorbed Catelyn's words, the truth of them ringing in all their ears. The boys were still learning the political side of the realm, but they knew this was probably their best option.

"Regarding the eggs, they'll be easy to hide. You all felt them move when I touched them, meaning they are alive. Which means there is a chance for them to hatch. And it is a chance, they might not."

All nodded in response to the youngest's words as they were also true. It's not guaranteed they will hatch. But it was something else that was troubling Cat, and she voiced her thoughts.

"If my hunch regarding this visit is correct, Robert is going to ask Ned to be his hand. And the man's stubbornness and inability to take no for answer is well known. This means he cannot refuse the offer without him taking it as a slight. And that is the last thing we need. It's also known that Robert is desperate for a Stark-Baratheon alliance. I suspect he is coming with a marriage proposal as well. The Princess Myrcella is too young, which means it will not be Robb. I'd be willing to bet he wants to betroth Sansa to Prince Joffrey. I doubt he will be doing so with Arya- not that she would appreciate that. That child would run to Skagos if she were faced with a marriage."

Neither of them had considered this. But now they were all thinking it, it also seemed likely. Of course, the King would want to marry the Baratheon heir to the eldest Stark female. They wouldn't know for certain until he got here, but they need to be fully prepared. Even now, Sansa had still not warmed up to Jon. She still babbled on that he would be a usurper if he were to claim what was his due to rights of conquest. No telling her otherwise was working. She'd be delighted with the betrothal if it were true, her beloved songs of knights and gallant Prince's coming to life with her being the character involved. 

"Sansa will beg father to agree to the match, and honestly, he would be foolish to refuse it even knowing the truth. Yes, Robert based his claim on a lie, therefore took the throne wrongfully, but the rules of conquest are clear. It's a toss of the coin really. If the truth gets out, it will split the Seven Kingdoms directly. Those who agree with rules of conquest, and those who agree with false claims holding no merit. There's one thing we all know about my older brother, and that is he would do anything for family. If Sansa does ask for it to be agreed upon, he will not be able to say no to her, which means she will also be going to Kings Landing."

They all shook their heads at Benjen's words. It was very much a Sansa thing to do. In her mind royalty can do nothing wrong and are perfect. This is far from the truth; Jon of all people knew considering he was royalty. Despite it being unknown to most, he was technically a King. 

"Anyway, enough of that. I want to see just how good you two have gotten with swords since I saw you last."

Both boys let massive smiles come onto their faces at this before following their uncle outside. Catelyn decided to go and pay the Maester a visit, wanting to get more information on the family. Sworn brothers were giving them odd looks, some even going to the extent of sniggering about them being green boys. Normally, this was not considered to be a slight, but the way it was said confirmed in this case it was. Robb gave Jon a look, and the younger understood the 'let's show them' behind it. Benjen already had his sword strapped to his own hip, and both boys took their time running through all the available swords there was. Both were now training with live steel much to their delight, and both chose a sword befitting their preferred styles. A few people gathered in the courtyard to watch, a few even making bets if their ears didn't betray them. Robb decided to go first because he knew Jon was far more skilled than he was, and he wanted to play it as a wildcard. 

It had been a long time since Benjen had simply sparred and had not been swinging a sword with the intention to kill, but he was intrigued with how good his nephews had gotten. Apparently Jon was asking to be trained how to use dual swords which was impressive. He made a mental note to ask Ser Alliser. Despite his dislike for the man, there was no denying the man's skill. He could train up someone who had never even held a sword into a decent swordsman within a couple of months with barely any lessons. Something that was needed more and more as the Wildlings were moving closer to the wall and leaving whole villages abandoned. But they were still a long way out to cause significant harm. 

Robb made the first move, and he blocked it easily before retaliating. After a few swings, he knew his eldest nephew preferred strength when it came to sparring. He wasn't very quick, but not slow either, but did need more practise. But for someone only being sixteen name-days, he was impressive to say the least. He had been nowhere near this level at that age. He'd also caught the look they had given one another, and he wondered if they had a trick up their sleeves. A likely thing, considering the last time he had visited Winterfell he was greeted with goat shit stuffed in his shoes, courtesy of the children. He never found out which one it was that did it, but it was done. 

It seemed to go on forever when it was only a few minutes. Both eyeing the other for openings but both being too quick to land said openings. Out the corner of his eye, he spotted Catelyn smirking brightly at her eldest child, clearly proud of him which warmed him greatly. He knew his brother had grown to love her deeply as she had him as well, and both were incredibly protective over their brood. With those two in charge, there would be no harm coming to Winterfell any time soon. However, he spotted his other nephew looking almost bored. Why was he looking at him like that? Eventually, Robb spotted an opening that Benjen didn't notice and soon he felt the cool steel against his neck, signalling the end of the match. He laughed loudly before clapping his nephew on the back.

"You've gotten much better since I saw you last, nephew."

Robb let a large smile on his face at these words before walking over to stand beside his mother and cousin. The sworn brothers were looking at the young boy with awe now, hardly any of them were as skilled as that at his age. Even Ser Alliser nodded lightly in approval which was incredibly rare. Granted, it was only there for a split second, but he did see it. But then Jon stepped up, ignoring the calls of 'bastard' his way. The word didn't bother him anymore because he knew he wasn't. But it wasn't this that set the older man on edge. The confidence he walked over with and the way he was holding the sword showed he treated the weapon like an extension of his arm. And if the boy was asking to be trained in dual swords, this meant he was an advanced student. 

Unlike his cousin, Jon made the first move. A swipe in an upwards motion which he blocked effortlessly before parrying back, but before he was doing so he was already counterattacking. So, he favours speed, a method that Benjen was not good with and he mentally cursed himself for proposing this sparring bout. Brandon was the one for speed, not him or Ned. Although, he did allow a small smile came onto his face as it was speed Lyanna preferred. Her being short in nature meant she couldn't rely wholly on strength, so she had gone to their eldest brother to teach her. It was uncanny her son was the same as her. Within a couple of minutes, he was already beginning to tire blocking the furious attacks the younger rained down on him, them being carried by their feet to the opposite end of the courtyard which meant he was going to have to dive to the side to avoid being literally cornered.

Upon seeing a small opening, he threw himself to the right so he was not the one in the open and his nephew was close to the walls, but this didn't deter him in the slightest. In fact, he didn't even appear to be panting. Then again, he could just be hiding his ailment to play it further in his favour. From the side he heard Robb cheer on Jon which wakened his competitiveness. Both were soon back in the centre of the courtyard, steel meeting steel in an intricate dance. It was like fighting with Lya all over again. Then Jon pulled out a trick he had never seen before. He slashed the sword which Benjen caught, but just before the blades met he twirled the sword a few times which caused him to lose his grip momentarily, and he took the opportunity to disarm his uncle. 

"Where'd you pull that move from?"

He was panting hard but still Jon didn't seem tired other than slightly heavier breathing than normal. Both clapped one another on the backs again before meeting their other family members. Even Catelyn had a proud smile on her face at it, which made Benjen realise she had fully accepted the boy into the family and didn't treat him as she had previously.

"To prepare for further training I've been reading a lot of old techniques. That was apparently one the Valyrian's used to use, thought I'd give it a go."

All snorted loudly at the statement. Obviously, the boy of Valyrian descent would learn to use Valyrian methods. And he knew the sword his nephew possessed, that would cause severe damage further down the line. Whether they like it or not, it's unlikely the truth will remain a secret forever. But they can sure as well try their best to do so. Jon's made it obvious he wants nothing to do with the Iron Throne, and if it got out, he may be forced into it. Benjen gulped quietly as Ser Alliser walked over, glaring at Catelyn. He knew why. The man was known to be a devout Targaryen follower, and he despised anyone who wasn't, and it was well known the Tully's supported Robert in the rebellion. However, he did allow a small smile onto his face as without his knowledge the man was close a legitimate Targaryen heir.

"Where'd you learn to fight like that bastard?"

Even at the age of sixteen, he had the grace to blush lightly to prove he was not arrogant about his skills.

"The master at arms in Winterfell mostly taught me, I also study a lot on techniques and practise them on dummies."

It went quiet for a few moments before the man nodded, but Jon noticed he was staring hard at his face. Did he recognise his father in him? He hoped not, despite it being somewhat safe here for it to be out. Nights Watch take vows to not take part in politics in Westeros, which meant nothing could ever leave here. Ser Alliser tightened his lips before walking away as he walked over to Robb who was eyeing him oddly.

"Impressive, brother. Very impressive."

Jon simply laughed and moments later both were locked in a headlock with one another which both Catelyn and Benjen chuckled at. They would only be here for another day before heading back to Winterfell, and he was tempted to go with them to protect his nephew from Robert if he recognises Rhaegar in him. But he can't do so as he needs written permission from Jeor to do so, and he will not get that in a day. The youngest asked again if he could spend some time with the Maester, and when he was given the permission he ran off up the tower, Robb following not long after him.

"Those two are peas in a pod aren't they?"

Catelyn could do nothing but nod. Even before she knew the truth of the younger, they were always close. Something that was to be expected considering there was only a week between them. They grew up as half-brothers but secretly cousins. 

"If you think they're bad, you should see Arya and Jon. Nothing but trouble between those two."

Soon, the time came when they had to leave if they were to make it back on time to complete preparations for the arrival of the King. Aemon had even come out to say his goodbyes but they kept it short and simple in case anyone caught on. It was a tender moment, and it was not lost that the old Maester seemed happier than he had in many years. In fact, neither were sure they had ever seen him smile like that. The small chest that encased the eggs was strapped to the back of Jon's saddle, locked tightly and the seal hidden by a new lock that was added onto it. House Targaryen was far from over. 

The journey back was worse than it was coming to Castle Black. The summer snows were heavier than usual and there was now almost a foot of it which slowed the horses down. It had been the longest summer on record so far, and all dreaded when winter would come again. The boys had only been seven name-days, Sansa being three, and Arya still suckling at Catelyn's teat and being pregnant with Bran. They won't remember much of the last winter if anything it will just be snowball fights and snow angels they'll remember. But she sure would. She had been shocked when she first came to the North to find out it was summer there due to the rapid temperature difference between here and the Riverlands where she had grew up her entire life. But when the winter came she was proven wrong in her assumptions, she swears she's never been so cold in her life. However, she was grateful that Ned had made her numerous fur cloaks and that Winterfell was built atop hot springs which kept the castle warm even in the coldest night. 

A few people asked what was in the chest, but all that was said is that it was a gift for the Lord. Upon hearing this, no further words were spoken regarding it. All simply assumed it had come from Benjen. Possibly containing late name-day gifts for the boys. By the time they reached Mole's Town, it was already dark and they decided to stay overnight in an inn as opposed to setting up camp. The rooms they were placed in were small and very cramped, but it was better than a tent in the snow. All gorged on mutton stew and freshly baked bread. On their travels they only had basics unless someone managed to take down something. 

It was an odd sight, seeing Winterfell from the northside of the castle. Catelyn had been around most of the castles in the North by now, but Jon never had, and Robb had only ever been to New Castle which was south in White Harbour. The city wasn't large, maybe with a population of around ten thousand, but it was a welcome sight for Catelyn when she first came to the North all those years ago. She's gotten used to the culture here and has grown respect for it, but she would always be a southern Lady at heart. A few days later, all were met with an entourage. Once inside the courtyard, it took Arya no time at all to launch herself at Jon who almost fell over at the force she propelled herself at. Sansa as usual gave a simple nod with a delicate curtsy. Bran ran over to Robb, Rickon to Catelyn babbling away with the few words he had. Ned greeted them all warmly before asking for them to meet in his solar so they could discuss what happened. Jon and Robb quickly undid the latch that had been attached to the horse's saddle to keep the chest in place before walking with the rest of the family. 

"Did you get the answers you needed, Jon?"

The young boy simply nodded and nobody missed the subtle eye roll that Sansa gave. 

"He's a lovely man, extremely old and can barely move on his own. But he often wrote my father and got responses, he's given me his side of them. But he gave me this as well, and I believe this is a lot more important than letters."

Ned's eyes widened slightly, not expecting he would keep them with the vows he had taken. It wouldn't surprise him if Aemon had been giving unsolicited advice to Rhaegar all those years ago, it was known the Prince valued his great-great-uncles wisdom and unbiased view. When Jon opened the chest, he noticed the way Catelyn's face shifted slightly and the glint in Robb's eye. He understood why when he took in the contents. He had never seen a dragon egg before, had only ever seen pictures in books and once the skulls in the Red Keep. The sheer size of Balerion's still haunting him to this day. 

"They're alive. Robb and Lady Catelyn felt them inside the scales as do I."

Now, all their eyes widened. Sansa's in fright, Arya and Bran's in wonder, and Rickon's over the pretty patterns on the scales. Ned carefully picked up the blue one and turned it over in his palms, inspecting it. It felt cold to him, very much like stone. How was something alive in these? And how was it felt? Jon reached over and touched the egg as well, and he jumped in surprise at the warmth that now radiated from it. Now that he was really concentrating, he could feel the soft movement inside although it was incredibly minimal.

"Do you think they'll hatch? Where are we going to hide two dragons?"

The young boy simply bit his lip.

"I don't know if they'll hatch, but I've got a feeling they will. I've no idea how if they will, only that blood is key to it. If they do, possibly the crypts? Or maybe find a cave in the Wolfswood for them?"

"You're not going to hatch them, are you?"

The coldness of Sansa's words broke everyone from their wonder and Jon caught the Lady give her eldest daughter a stern glare.

"I mean, it's already bad he's a Targaryen as it'll cause war and death. He's not even an heir! Prince Joffrey is the heir! The moment King Robert tried to get back his love because your father kidnapped her invalidated the claim- "

"Sansa, that's enough."

The harshness of Ned's words made her stop in her rant and bow her head in shame. The others were all glaring at her apart from Jon, Catelyn, and Rickon. The words hurt massively but being singled out for most of his life from his family was worse, so it didn't affect him much. Despite this, the words stung.

"Sansa, I've told you numerous times now that Prince Rhaegar did not kidnap my sister. She went off with him willingly because she did not want to marry Robert who had a new woman in his bed every night. Robert refused her rejection when she told him she didn't want to go through with it and somehow concluded Rhaegar kidnapped and murdered her."

She opened her mouth to continue but she was silenced by her mother.

"Sansa, Robert Baratheon is a proud man, and to him a rejection is an act of war. In his mind, he does nothing wrong. This is not a good trait to have. Starting a war to get back a woman who didn't want him was stupid, incredibly so. He was lucky in a sense that people were blocking letters being sent to confirm everything which caused Brandon to act recklessly. Yes, this is what started the war, and the rules of conquest are clear which does invalidate a claim for Jon and legitimises the Baratheon's. However, proud houses who lost men in this war may take it as insult if it gets out that the war was based on a false truth, which could potentially make them openly rebel with the King and Queen. If this is the case, it invalidates their claim and makes Jon's valid. It's a tricky situation."

She huffed a little before thinking over her mother's words. She couldn't deny that her words held merit, but Septa Mordane's words were clear. Obviously, she wasn't stupid enough to out Jon, but she had asked questions out of curiosity. The Septa was of the South, as was her mother, and she had tried her best to emulate her Lady mother. 

"None of you are to out Jon when the King arrives. Not to anyone. I'm not going to force him into something he has yet to decide on. That means do not mention he's your cousin, do not tell anyone he's a trueborn Targaryen, or has any Targaryen blood at all. And most certainly, do not mention these eggs."

That was something they could all agree on unanimously. It would be stupid to mention what Jon had. Especially with Robert being King. If it got out whilst he was King, the entire family would be labelled traitors for willingly hiding a Targaryen heir. Yes, the youngest three didn't know the full extent of what would happen, but they did know that it was bad. 

"Keep these under your bed alongside the sword, I'll give an order to the servants not to go near your room whilst this visit is on. Once it's over, we can find somewhere to keep them- "

"What sword?"

Arya's quizzical glance broke the silence, and even Sansa was looking to her father curiously. 

"I have Dark Sister."

At that, Arya immediately spat out the honeyed milk she was drinking and looked to him in shock. Even being her age, Jon knew it would be difficult to keep her from learning weaponry, she was already sneaking into practise bouts on occasion, and he knew Robb had a dagger commissioned for her during the parades. However, it was hard to hide a snigger at the disdained look on both Catelyn and Sansa's faces at her actions. 

"I'll show you it if your mother permits it, but no one knows I have it, Arya. It's thought lost alongside Blackfyre."

The younger girl who looked so much like him immediately turned to her mother and gave her the best puppy look she could give her. The Lady tried to be stern, and she wasn't keen on her daughter's interests with weapons, but she couldn't say no to the face she was making her way. The chest was closed now to hide the eggs from sight, but it didn't ease the tension in the room that Bran and Rickon were completely oblivious to. 

"What if he recognises me? Sees my father in me? Even uncle Benjen is saying I'm looking more and more like them every day- "

"I highly doubt he will, but if he does we'll cross that bridge when it comes."

It did little to calm his pounding heart though. On the very slim chance he did recognise him, he would need to go on the run like his aunt and uncle in Essos. And they weren't safe from Robert's wrath. Heck, for all he knows one of his assassins had succeeded. It took weeks for communication to be sent between Westeros and Essos. But if he's thinking logically, he is the last Targaryen, and he is the rightful heir. His father was the crown Prince, and Viserys was only seven name-days when they had to go into exile. 

"There is one possibility that doesn't result in exile, but it would require weaving more lies."

Catelyn's soft words were barely heard, just loud enough that Ned and Robb had heard and they turned to look at her in confusion. She turned to look at him now, taking in his features and trying to discern what she could remember of two people who were long dead.

"If he does recognise him by any chance, we could pass him off as having Valyrian descent or a descendent of a family who shares similar traits. Valyrian's share numerous common ancestors due to their practises, even if they haven't in a long time. And they're not the only family who had purple eyes."

Silence ensued as he tried to work out where his aunt was going. Ned understood immediately what she was implying, but they decided silently to test the kids on their knowledge. It was true purple eyes were incredibly common amongst Valyrian ancestry, but elsewhere it was incredibly uncommon. Who else had that eye colour that weren't descended from Dragon lords? Then it hit him, the Dayne's. Arthur, Ashara...

"Pass me off as a bastard with Ashara- "

"Pass you off as a bastard of Brandon and Ashara."

This stunned Jon into silence as he took in what his uncle said. It wasn't good to keep lying, but he could see the basics of something forming from it. It was known that Brandon was a bit of a womaniser, even Catelyn knew his reputation. He was loud, rumoured to have had a couple of bastards before his temper took over rational actions. 

"It was heavily rumoured there was more to them. Brandon would've trusted Ned to keep a secret, and the remaining Dayne's stay out of everything. They even named their heir after Ned. There's no evidence to contest it unless someone goes rifling through Jon's belongings and finds the documents and items."

"Ashara knew the truth. I think she figured it out from Arthur, but she confirmed when I visited Starfall on my way back to the Red Keep, she did confirm she would keep it quiet. That's how we got Wylla who was Jon's wet nurse. But she in her grief of losing her brother and daughter caused her to commit suicide."

It went quiet for a few seconds at these words. All silently decided not to ask further regarding Ashara and instead on if the theory would work if anyone notices his eyes. What they were saying made sense. More sense than Ned fathering Jon did. And if anyone asked why he did so, they could spin it in a way that he was scared to tell Catelyn and the rest of his goodfamily the truth in fear of a revolt considering they were betrothed. 

"That's what we'll do then, but only if someone notices his eyes. The rest of his features aren't wholly noticeable unless someone comes who knew Rhaegar very well. The only one we know for certain would be Ser Jaime and Ser Barristan, but it has been sixteen years."

It's unlikely they will as what he had inherited from his father was incredibly subtle. Well, apart from perhaps his swordsmanship. With that, those who had been travelling for the past week retreated to their own rooms, Arya trailing behind Jon so she could see the sword. She had always looked up to Visenya Targaryen, the fact she was a renowned warrior despite her gender fascinating her. She was going to ask her father if she could learn how to fight, if anyone could convince her mother it was him. On the way, two wolves appeared. One pure white and the other mostly grey with a couple of white patches. Despite them still being weeks old, they had already doubled in size. Ghost now came to Jon's knees, and Nymeria was waist height on Arya. Both were petted fondly before eyeing the chest oddly, Ghost tilting his head and flopping an ear over in interest. Clearly they knew something was in here, but there was no damage done with them being aware. Wolves can't talk after all.

Once in his room, Jon wasted no time in kicking the chest under his bed, manoeuvring it so it was in the very back corner. That way, there was less of a chance of people finding it. Not that it could be opened as Jon had the key to the lock. But there was a smith in Winterfell, they would easily break through the steel. He shook his head at this before closing his door tight behind him so no one could get a peek. Steadily, he pushed out the larger chest that contained items left to him by his parents and all the documents. Arya was practically vibrating in excitement, imagining it in her mind. He pulled out the sheath and handed it to her to inspect. From the twisted handle, to the fire and dragon pommel, the rippled gold hilt, and the giant ruby inlaid on it, it was somehow more stunning than she had pictured it to be. Steadily, she pulled it out the sheath. The deep grey of the Valyrian steel rippled with a pale blue which identified said material. How skinny the blade was, easily less than half the width Ice was. This was a longsword, not a greatsword like her father wielded. The blade itself must've been close to her height, but Jon was rather tall. 

"So, does it meet your expectations?"

She nodded frantically before gripping the hilt and swinging it a few times. It was way too big for her to wield, but Jon noticed how at ease she looked with it. Her name-day was coming up, perhaps he could convince Mikken to commission one suited more to her size of a similar style. 

"And when the dragons hatch, you need to take me on a ride."

He couldn't even say anything before she flounced out the room after sheathing the sword, Nymeria hot on her heels. After everything was put away, he felt a pull towards the smaller chest again. The same one he had felt when Aemon first brought it out. He opened it again and picked them both up. They felt warmer than they had at Castle Black, and he could feel the movements in them more. Fire and Blood. His house words, apparently being the key to hatching them. He placed the eggs down on his bed and pulled out the small knife he had. What was compelling Jon to do this was unknown, it was just a feeling he had. Almost like it was a need. He only hesitated for a moment before cutting into his palm to allow a steady stream of blood to appear. Ignoring the pain that came with it, he let a few droplets drop onto the scales. Upon touching them, the blood seeped underneath them then disappeared completely. He knew then, they were going to hatch. Not they might, they were. And he knew immediately what he was going to name them. The silver one would be Rhaegon for his father, the blue one would be Lyrax for his mother. The Silver Prince, and the Blue Winter Rose.


	6. V.

Jaeron III

Chaos was the only word that came to mind as they all prepared for the visit. Catelyn running around making sure everything was set up correctly with Sansa hot on her heels, Lord Stark making sure everything was accounted for alongside Robb. Bran trying to sneak in an archery lesson which Arya graciously ruined by showing him up by hitting the bullseye. Rickon in his lessons and if the sounds coming from his room were anything to go by- was not enjoying being cooped up being forced to learn with the hustle and bustle of the castle. Then there was Jon. 

Since it was only the family and Howland Reed who knew the truth, he was still being treated as the bastard of Winterfell. Something that he had gotten used to and had created a mask to hide how much it hurt that he couldn't partake in any of the celebrations. Something he now felt no resent over as he now knew who he was. He felt guilt ebb deep inside of him as he remembered the long talk Eddard had with him the night prior, a talk which turned into an accusatory screaming match between the pair as Jon let out all his anger. He'd felt horrible for it and for taking it out on the man who had risked so much to keep him safe, but he needed to get it out. 

However, he now had some closure towards everything. His uncle had confirmed to him that he had marched with Robert as he genuinely believed that there was foul play going on and to avenge his father and older brother. It wasn't this that was bothering the young boy. It was that he had continued his whole life to paint Robert Baratheon as someone to be looked up to and he cared for deeply. It was obvious that deep down, Ned Stark still hoped some of the boy he grew up with in the Eyrie was still the same, and nobody wanted to dampen this tiny bit of faith he had.

No, Robert Baratheon did not order the deaths of his siblings or Elia, but he had rejoiced over it. He had also confirmed that Ned was the only person to call it out for what it was- cold blooded murder. It had apparently led to a massive confrontation between the new King and the Lord, and his uncle had stormed out of the Red Keep in disgust to begin lifting the siege at Storm's End. It was only after his uncle had returned with his mother's bones that the pair had reconciled. Well, today he would see just how shaky the relationship between the two really was. They had already received a report from Wintertown confirming the entourage had been spotted on the horizon, there was no way to avoid it. 

At least he had one thing going for him. As they were still going by the bastard story, this meant he couldn't be close to the King for courtesy sakes unless he demanded it himself. Hesitantly, he got dressed in his 'best' clothes which were not much better than the servants before eyeing what lay in the corner of his room. He now had the eggs sitting on an open fire which was roaring away silently. With the order given that no one was to come near his rooms until after the visit, he could have them out temporarily. Jon had no idea when they would hatch or even how he was going to get them to hatch, he just knew they were going to do so. Hopefully, it's not during this trip because it wouldn't be easy to hide two dragons. 

A knocking on his door broke the silence and soon Robb peeked his head inside to let him know they would be there within the next ten minutes. The older knew how the slightly younger felt, and he had offered to listen to him as he got everything out. There's one thing about Jon that bothered people. He has a short temper, but he also bottles everything up until he cannot do so anymore. Not exactly a good combination for a Stark/Targaryen mix who were known for acting out whenever rage bubbled over. The older glanced to the fire for a moment before quirking an eyebrow up, the younger simply giving him a stern glare in response. He couldn't have people getting curious with what he had as it would unravel the web of lies his life was currently.

It wasn't snowing today like it had been for the last few days, but there was still a light dusting of it on the ground. There was a gentle warmth coming from the breeze which to a lot of people would be freezing, but to them it was nice. Northerners were built for cold weather after all. Jon took his position near the back but making sure he had enough of a view to see the famous King Robert and Queen Cersei. Who would be in their entourage? Secretly, he hoped Ser Barristan was here, always looking up to the knight since he was a young boy. Arya pushed her way by him with an oversized helmet on her head which caused him to laugh merrily. Soon, all the Starks were at the front and waiting on everyone to arrive.

Then he heard the tell-tale sound of hooves and chattering of people talking. A few Goldcloaks appeared first and personal guards, followed by some members of the Kingsguard. Followed by the Kingsguard were clearly close family members. From his angle, he could see the Imp, the Hound, Prince Joffrey, along with a bunch of Lannister soldiers alongside Baratheon soldiers. He couldn't see exactly which Kingsguards were there as all had helmets that covered majority of their faces. However, if Tyrion Lannister was here, there was a fair chance that Ser Jaime was one of them. Twin brother to Queen Cersei Lannister and older brother to Tyrion. Tyrion was riding a much smaller horse, a little larger than an average pony, his stunted legs and oversized head immediately making him recognisable. Dark blonde hair and mismatched eyes only doing more so. 

And then someone rode into the courtyard on a black stallion that appeared to be a destrier due to the sheer height and build of the animal. Everyone got down onto one knee at this and Jon realised with a start that this was Robert Baratheon. He felt the rage bubble up inside of him a little, but he managed to hold it in by clenching his fists hard together. Something that Theon Greyjoy who was stood beside him noticed and gave him a weird look out the corner of his eye. His eyebrows creased as he tried to picture this man winning a battle and swinging the killing blow on his father with his war hammer. To say he was disappointed by what he saw was an understatement.

It wasn't only the Kings mount that was impressive in size, he was as well. He easily broke the six-foot barrier, but his waistline was one of the biggest Jon had ever seen. His face was all puffed up and had sweat patches on it, a thinning hairline and his black heir streaked with grey despite him only being a little older than his uncle. Someone walked up with a block and it was difficult to hide in a snort as he stepped down from his beast of a mount. He walked over to Ned and gestured for everyone to stand up. Ned was the first to greet him with a customary 'your grace' which Robert didn't even seem to acknowledge. Instead, he eyed the Lord up and down a few times.

"You've got fat."

A few people had to force themselves to hold in giggles at this, even Theon let out a short laugh which he disguised badly as a cough. Much to the youngers surprise, his uncle proceeded to do the same to Robert but he couldn't see his expression due to being a couple of rows behind, but he suspected there had been a quirked eyebrow. Then the King began laughing and stepped forward to embrace his old friend. After this, he hugged Lady Catelyn, rubbed Rickon's head, before asking why Lord Stark hadn't made an appearance in nine years. Jon was now looking to him with surprise. He wanted Ned to come down to visit him but he never came to see him in response? Was this man really that self-absorbed in himself? He looked to the side as he was now only a few feet from him and he didn't want to risk being recognised. A wheelhouse had appeared at some point amongst all the greetings, and the woman who stepped out could only be Queen Cersei if her long blonde locks and garments were anything to go by. He shook Robb's hand and gave a gentle nod to the other children. 

That was when one of the Kingsguards removed their helm and he was pleased that he had been correct in his assessment that one was Ser Jaime. His chin-length blonde locks and chiselled facial structure identical to the Queen making him stand out. The Queen worked her way down the line as well and just as she got to Ned, Robert asked to be brought down to the crypts to pay his respects to Lyanna. This angered Jon even more as he bit his lip hard, being careful not to break the skin. How dare he? Pay his respects? It was this man's refusal of a two-letter-word that got his father, grandfathers, uncle, and siblings killed! Cersei chimed in now by stating they had been riding for the best part of a month and surely he could wait, but Robert simply shot her a glare before beckoning Ned to follow him. 

Eddard III

As the Lord followed his King, he shot Jon a short apologetic look. He had to bite his tongue himself despite him still caring somewhat for Robert. Although, it was becoming blatantly obvious that he was no longer the man that he once knew nor was he the boy he had grown up with in the Eyrie under Jon Arryn. Winterfell's crypts were vast and were practically a maze to those who didn't know their way around them. All Stark Lords were buried here, alongside the Stark Kings of old before Aegon's conquest three hundred years prior. After only a few minutes of walking, Robert was already breathing heavy which didn't surprise Eddard considering his rather pronounced girth. The last time he had saw him was during the Greyjoy rebellion and it was also the last time he had made a visit to Winterfell. He'd still had his impressive muscles then but he was gaining some weight, but clearly the last nine years had not done him good.

He quizzed him about Jon Arryn in case he knew anything, and unsurprisingly he didn't. Only that the elderly man was fine one day and through the night got a deadly fever that burned through him so fast that Grand Maester Pycelle couldn't stop in time. If anyone were to know what had happened, it would've been Robert. He allowed a small laugh as he bragged about how all he had wanted to do was to fuck girls, drink, and crack skulls open. But then he stood in front of him which caused Ned to stall. From the look the King was giving him, he had a feeling what was coming.

"I need you, Ned. Down with me in Kings Landing. Not up here where you're of no use to anybody. Lord Eddard Stark, I would name you Hand of the King"

Of course, he had expected it after Catelyn had brought him aside with her suspicions once she had gotten back from Castle Black with Robb and Jon. He allowed a tiny grimace to appear but he played it off as shock before kneeling and somehow managing to get out that he didn't feel he was worthy of the honour. He didn't want to go south, and he most certainly didn't want to leave his family. However, Robert immediately retorted that he wasn't honouring him and that he simply wanted him there to run the Kingdoms whilst he ate, drank, and whored himself to death. 

"You helped me win the damn throne, now you will help me keep the damned thing. If Lyanna had lived, we would've been goodbrother's. Well, it's not too late. I have sons, you have daughters. My eldest son and your eldest daughter, we'll join our houses."

With that, Robert walked down the main tunnel. And there Catelyn's other suspicion was. He really needed to give her more credit where she was due. She was certainly well-versed in politics and seemingly knew how to read people very well. Even if she didn't know said person as she had proven here. If he refused the Hand position, Robert wouldn't like it but he would if played correctly accept it. But if he refused a betrothal, he would not take that kindly. Ned knew how badly the man took refused betrothals after what had happened with Lyanna. He soon caught up with him so he could lead him in the correct direction to where her bones were buried. 

Robert pulled out a large feather from under his cloak, he couldn't make out what type of bird it had come from though in the darkness of the crypts. Once they got to her statue, he wasted no time in placing the feather into her hand. The statue wasn't exactly a great replica of Lyanna, but it was still simple to see who it belonged to as she was buried beside Brandon and Rickard. 

"Did you have to bury her here in this dreary place?"

"She was my sister, and she was of the North. Her place is here with the family- "

"She was mine, she belonged with me. She was my betrothed. I loved her Ned, with all my heart. She deserved to be on a large hill surrounded by red roses."

Ned struggled to bite his tongue at this one. Even now, sixteen years later, he still thought of her as his. If there was one thing Lyanna despised, it was being a trophy simply because she was a Lords only daughter. From Robert's words, the Lord knew she was just that to him. An object, and she would've known it and would've been one of the reasons she refused to go through with the betrothal. And red roses? Really? It was common knowledge after the tourney of Harrenhal that Lyanna's favourite flowers were blue winter roses. Something even Rhaegar knew considering he had crowned her Queen of love and beauty at it. Even riding past Elia who had secretly been put aside at the time with her consent. 

"You know, I dream about it every night. Killing him, yet it's never enough. From me spotting the damned dragon helmet and ruby encrusted armour that kidnapper wore and fighting to get to him. Determined that I would be the one to do it. To him turning around and meeting my hammer with his sword and shield. To me disarming the shield and finally catching him directly in the chest. Watching as his ribs caved in and crushing him inside, watching him fall into the river, and seeing the jewels falling from his armour into the waters to be swept away. Her name was the last thing he said to me before he took his last breath, one last insult to me."

The last part startled Ned. Robert had never disclosed in detail exactly how he had defeated the Prince, and he certainly never told him that his last word was Lyanna. Robert had taken it as insult, and it may have been meant as a final insult from Rhaegar. However, stories portrayed him as being incredibly kind to everyone. Even the smallfolk loved him which was rare for anyone highborn. It likely wouldn't have been that; he was probably trying to get out that he had married her and did not kidnap her to clear his name. But there was no way to know for certain exactly what had transpired that day, all people could go on was Robert's word.

After this, both walked out and went their separate ways. Robert towards his wife and eldest son Joffrey, and Ned to tell Catelyn her suspicions had been correct. She had simply nodded silently before going to tell Sansa herself, but he did ask her to say he was considering it. If he could, he would outright deny it. But Sansa was already smitten with the Prince, that much was clear to see when he had ridden in on his gelding. Very much looking like someone had stepped out of a storybook. He knew she wouldn't take it kindly if he refused, and the last thing he needed was to deny one of the kids something they desperately wanted.

Jaeron IV

Sansa had been delighted when she heard which was to be expected and was openly asking her father to accept. Not that he had a choice, he doesn't want to plunge the North into a war again. Arya simply rolled her eyes in annoyance as despite the Prince being handsome, the way he held himself as he rode in was nothing short of arrogance. Holding the poor horses head up at a clearly uncomfortable angle, his smirk as he looked down on them from his mount, and the way he had his nose held up high in the air. Clearly, the boy was spoiled beyond measure, which wasn't uncommon for royalty. It wasn't only Arya who had noticed the Prince's attitude though, the older two noticed as well and were trying to talk Sansa out of it. Although, one may have been doing so as he didn't want her anywhere near the man who had aided in tearing his family apart. 

"Enough you two. I told you both at Castle Black this was most likely going to happen, and we'd be stupid to refuse. Yes, your father could deny the Hand position without huge repercussion considering he's the Warden of the North. But he cannot risk refusing this betrothal. Not only would the King take it as a slight and therefore all the Baratheon's will, the Lannister's will too. It's not a good idea to slight Tywin Lannister, everyone knows what he did with the Reyne's after all."

They all went silent at this as they let the truth of her words sink in. Regretfully, neither Jon nor Robb took that part into consideration. 

"Sansa. When you go south, you will not tell anyone about Jon. Do you understand?"

She opened her mouth to say something, but with the stern glare Eddard was giving her, she closed her mouth before nodding. This calmed him somewhat because as much as Sansa undermined his claim and had treated him as an outsider for most of his life, she is his cousin, a part of the pack. He was just as much Stark as he was Targaryen. 

"If Robert finds out about Jon, he will proclaim war. He will stop at nothing until Targaryen's are dead- "

"But wasn't his grandmother a Targaryen? Which means he is also part Targaryen?"

Bran's confused question broke the tense atmosphere and lifted their spirits slightly.

"Aye, she was. Rhaelle married Ormund Baratheon. She was full-blooded Targaryen like most of the line was. Which as horrible as it sounds, makes Robert a kinslayer. He himself is part Targaryen, which means he is cousin to Targaryen's. It's how he was able to make a claim for the throne. Jon wouldn't be born for another few weeks, and Rhaella escaped with Viserys which meant there were no other viable candidates than himself, Stannis, and Renly. Since he is the eldest though, this gave him the claim."

Now, Jon felt sick to his stomach. With his newfound anger he had developed over the King and how he had acted, he'd never stopped to consider the familial link between the two. Rhaelle was sister to Jaeherys, who was father to Aerys and Rhaella, who were Jon's grandparents. It meant his paternal grandparents and Robert's parents were first cousins, which meant he himself was a cousin removed to Daenerys, Viserys, and Rhaegar. Yes, the link was very minimal and would be overlooked by most, but he was still a distant relative to the man. 

"So, not only did he murder my father because he refused to accept my mother didn't want to marry him, he also murdered someone of his own blood."

The silence that followed was all that was needed to confirm his thought process. Gods, this whole thing was a mess. Kinslaying was a sin in the eyes of the Seven, and southerners openly followed the Seven for thousands of years. How did he get away with it all without being shamed in their eyes? Clearly there's a lot more to the picture than has been let on. 

"Anyway, the feast will be starting soon so we had better head down to avoid both the King's and Queen's wraths. Jon- "

He simply nodded at his aunt's words. He knew to keep up the act he couldn't go. Not that he minded much on that though, as it meant he could get in some practise. He could now write somewhat comfortable with his left hand, but it still felt unnatural to him. But if he wanted to learn to fight like this, he would need to train his left hand. He could always ask Arya to help him out considering it was her dominant hand, but he had no idea how that would go down. It was a miracle that Catelyn hadn't found the dagger Robb had gotten her yet. Once he was back in his solar, he suddenly remembered just how at ease she was with Dark Sister, despite it being way too big for her short stature. He grabbed a sketchbook and designed something that would be suitable for her stature that had a similar look to his own sword. No, he wouldn't be able to get her one that was Valyrian steel considering no one alive knew how to make it, but he wanted to do something for her. 

Once he had done this, he made his way down into the courtyard and stopping by the forge inside the castle. He got along with Mikken as he was one of a handful of people who didn't treat him differently due to his bastard status. The smith looked over the design and simply nodded in confirmation he would do it. Even saying he wouldn't take anything for it as he was having it made for Arya's upcoming name-day. With a simply nod from the younger, he made his way to the armoury to pick up a sword. Yes, both he and Robb were using live steel now to train, but he didn't want to cause anything by using such with both hands. He picked up two blunted tourney swords that seemed to be similar in shape to Dark Sister, despite the balance being completely different as Valyrian Steel was known to be incredibly lightweight.

Once he was at the targets, he spun the swords around a few times to get the hand of the heavier weight of them, glad he had been training his muscles recently. He chanced a few curious swings to get a better feel before beginning his assault. With his right hand, he was striking clear and would-be deadly if it were a real person. With his left, he was striking but it was clear they were clumsy strikes. His uncle was trying to hire someone who was well-versed in dual swords to teach him considering Ser Rodrik hadn't done so in over a decade apparently. As time went on, the swings became more precise but still nowhere near as much as the other. He was broken out of his silence by hearing footsteps behind him. He spun around on his feet to be met with someone short who was obviously drunk, but beside him was someone he idolised. Ser Barristan.

"Not enjoying the feast then are you, bastard?"

Jon ignored the last word and let a small grimace onto his face to continue the play of it bothering him. 

"The Lady thought it would be insulting to have the bastard in their midst."

Tyrion Lannister let out a short bellowing laugh which was followed by a loud belch, clearly grossing out the knight in the process. It was hard not to smirk at this, Kingsguard were always known for being stoic . 

"Looks like we might get along then."

"What do you know about being a bastard? You're a Lannister of Casterly Rock and brother to the Queen."

The words escaped before he could stop them, and he turned away embarrassed at what he had implicated. He cannot give anything away. 

"Nay, I'm not a bastard, but I am a dwarf. And all dwarves are bastards in their father's eyes. Let me give you some advice, never forget what you are because no one else will. Wear it as armour, then it can never hurt you."

With that, the Imp limped away leaving him with Ser Barristan Selmy. He was dumbfounded as the dwarf's words sunk in, the truth of them feeling very much like a knife against his gut. He had something in common. Jon had a name and he was treated as a bastard, And Tyrion had a name and he was also treated as one. The last thing he wanted was to have something in common with Lannister's of all people considering they were bound to the Baratheon's through marriage. 

"Two swords? You don't see that so often."

The younger had the grace to look down to his feet, knowing it was considered an insult to look someone of high rank in the eye when they were baseborn. The fact that he was speaking to Barristan the Bold was making it difficult to not let his excitement bubble over. If Robb were here he would probably be bowing at the Knight's feet. Bran would be peppering numerous questions at him and he suspected Arya would act the same as her younger brother as well. 

"Two longswords? I would've pictured you more with bastard swords due to your stature- "

"I prefer speed when sparring, I find longswords are better for this. Better reach, and lightweight making the method simpler."

The Knight was impressed to put it lightly, the boy knew his preferred style already. Not many people relied on speed when it came to swordsmanship, and especially not with dual swords. He looked him over and his eyes landed on the shift of his eyes. If he wasn't going crazy, he could've sworn they had shifted to lilac for a moment, an eye colour reminding him of Princess Rhaenys. However, they were soon back to grey that was common with the Stark's. He walked away now which caused Jon to deflate as he wanted to have a conversation with him, despite how risky it was. Ser Barristan was a close friend of Rhaegar, he may recognise the Prince in him. 

Ser Barristan found his way towards the armoury to also collect a tourney sword. He was tasked by the King and Queen to keep an eye on Tyrion who had now relocated to the nearby barn if the snores were anything to go by. Which meant he now had some time to himself, and he knew exactly what he wanted to do with it. He'd heard swinging metal cutting through the air, his sensitive ears picking up someone was practising alone. He had expected to see one of the lesser Knights or maybe even a guard, he hadn't expected to come face to face with Ned Stark's infamous bastard son Jon Snow. No one ever thought the Lord would be the one to come forward about fathering a bastard, but the man was also known to never lie- so nobody ever questioned the claim. Soon, he walked over to the boy again and eyed him from behind, something stirring deep inside of him. He couldn't hide the gut feeling that he was missing something big, and gods be damned if he weren't going to find it out.

"Care to put your skills to the test, boy?"

Jon jumped a little before turning to face the Knight, his eyes wide at the request. It was rare Barristan asked for someone to spar with him, it being known he only ever did so if he saw promise in someone. The younger nodded meekly, it being clear he wasn't sure if he was pushing above his station. Not that the elderly Knight minded, it was common for bastards to be raised to Knighthood or in some cases even to Goldcloaks or Kingsguard if they were good enough. Yes, they had to work harder for it, but it wasn't impossible. The boy placed down one of his swords to focus on just the one which made the older quirk an eyebrow up in response. Was the boy only just learning to wield two? If so, he was impressive to say the least.

The boy was clearly waiting on him to make the first move, and he chanced an awkward angle towards his midsection. The boy pivoted quickly and parried the attack with force, breaking out a smile on Barristan. Not many people reacted as quickly as that. Yes, this boy held a lot of promise. He went a little slower to how he usually would, each time Jon deflecting them like he knew what was coming before he had made the swing previously. Clearly a complete natural at swordsmanship. It reminded him of... No, he wasn't going to think about it. He didn't want to be reminded of his failure to the Prince. Before he knew it, he was back to his regular pace with the younger who was only now just beginning to show signs of ailment as he wasn't quite as precise with the Bold, but he held his own. But he wasn't going to win, so to soften the blow Barristan delivered what would've been a killing blow if the sword wasn't blunted.

"You're good."

Jon smiled and let the blush come onto his face. He never expected he would be praised by someone as well-known as Ser Barristan Selmy of the Kingsguard. He looked up to face him and again his eyes seemed to flash from grey to lilac. Now that he was looking at the boy, the feeling ebbed deeper inside of him. There was no denying Jon Snow reminded him of Rhaegar Targaryen, even his facial structure reminding him of the Prince. Only difference was the Prince's eyes were indigo, but Rhaenys had lilac eyes as well which she had inherited through Rhaella. 

"Meet you here tomorrow, kid."

With that, Ser Barristan walked back to the armoury to put the sword away before taking position near where Tyrion had fallen asleep in his drunken stupor as was ordered of him. Jon stayed out to practise for a little while longer but his muscles were now cramping terribly at the speed he was challenged with from the Knight. He was comfortably beating Ser Rodrik constantly now, but he was not the Bold. It was said he had gotten the moniker after challenging someone to a dual when he was ten name-days old. It was only now he seemed to realise how dark it had gotten as he made his way inside to his room, locking the door behind him immediately. 

The fire the eggs were placed on had long since burnt out, and he picked them up. The more days that passed, the stronger the movements were. And he was also beginning to feel a strong pull to Rhaegon. Jon knew that if they hatched, this would be the one he would ride. Dragons only ever allowed one person to ride them, and this bond never broke until the rider died. What would they look like when they hatched? He'd read in a book they took on the colours of their eggs. Would Lyrax be completely blue with grey wings? Would Rhaegon be totally silver with red and black spots? He would find out one day, and he would avenge his family.

And if this meant taking back what was rightfully his, then so be it. 

Jon woke up early the next day, immediately igniting a fire to place the eggs back on. When he had first done this, he had been scared to do so in case he burnt himself, but he never did. He could feel how hot the flames were against his exposed skin, but it was like a summer warmth to him as opposed to scorching hot fire. Not that he was going to chance walking through a fire because that would be stupid on another level. That was a one-way ticket to being labelled both insane and outing himself. It's too dangerous for him to do so currently. If he's going to claim what was taken from him, he needs to plan it out perfectly and needs to strike at the perfect time. A knocking on the door broke him from his thoughts as he finished getting dressed to be met by Bran this time.

"Mother and father have requested you, Robb, and Sansa to a meeting."

Jon frowned a little at this but he wasn't going to question it. Deep down, he knew his uncle had accepted the proposal for Sansa. It was too high of a risk not to in case it ignited another war as Robert would no doubt take insult to a refusal. His younger cousin peeked his head in to eye the eggs much like Robb had done, the older rolling his eyes that he must've either spoken or Bran had been hiding. Knowing Bran, it was likely the second option. The boy knew Winterfell better than anyone in the castle with how often he claimed the massive walls that encased it. No amount of warnings from Catelyn stopped him from doing so, but somehow he never fell. It was like he was a monkey, yet as quiet as a cat. 

"Jon, sit down."

He did so beside Robb immediately who was looking to him strangely. Sansa on the other hand was wearing a smile that would've split her face in half, confirming his suspicions. Only one thing would make her wear an expression as such. 

"What's this I'm hearing about you sparring with Ser Barristan last night?"

Robb's eyes widened at this before looking to his cousin in a mixture of shock and anger. The latter being because he hadn't told him. He looked down to the table for a moment before eyeing his uncle directly in the eye.

"He was asked by Queen Cersei to keep an eye on Lord Tyrion as she refused him entrance to the feast in fear of insult. I was outside practising and he asked me a few questions. He walked away after this and came back with a tourney sword and challenged me. I couldn't say no to a Kingsguard. And before you ask, no, I was not practising with Dark Sister. I was using tourney swords."

Eddard looked thoughtful as he took in his words. An hour prior, Ser Barristan had turned up in his solar and asked about the boy. Stating he saw a lot of potential in him and to wonder if he had ever considered squiring for someone. Ned knew he had, but it would be dodgy. The Knight was close to Rhaegar, he may recognise him. In fact, he suspected he was figuring it out already as he spoke about how much he had failed the Prince and he didn't want to fail again. Had the man gotten a look at Jon's eyes? Had he had time to examine his facial features?

"I asked you because he came by my solar not long ago, nephew. He wants to take you on as a squire."

Now, his eyes widened massively as he took in those words. The man was legendary, and he wanted to take on him? Yes, Jon is a Prince in hiding, but he didn't know that. Then the repercussions came into mind. If he accepts, he will have to uproot from Winterfell and go down to Kings Landing with him. He would come face to face with the King on multiple occasions, and he would be separated from his family. Well, not from Sansa or his uncle as they would be going as well. But leaving Robb? Leaving Arya? Bran and Rickon? Leave the one place he's called home even though it didn't feel like that for a long time for him. To go to the place where his grandfather killed his other grandfather and in turn strangling his uncle, where Jaime Lannister killed his grandfather, and where his siblings were murdered solely because of their name? 

"He's going to allow you a few days to think on it. We will be leaving for Kings Landing in a week. I'm going, Sansa is going, as is Arya. Robb will be acting Lord of Winterfell in my absence, and the other two are a little young to be travelling so far. Jory Cassel, Vayon Poole, and Jeyne Poole will also be accompanying us."

Some of his hesitance disappeared as he heard Arya would be going too. It meant he would be able to keep an eye on Sansa as he had a bad feeling about Prince Joffrey, something Arya noticed too. There was a reason he was closest to Robb and Arya. One because she looked just like him whereas her siblings took mostly after their mother, and one because they were born days apart and raised since they were a couple of months old. 

"It's incredibly risky if I do go, but if I do, I can help keep an eye on the girls. I can only imagine how busy you'll be uncle with Robert's business whilst he does whatever he does."

He wanted to put it blank that he would just be fucking whores, eating, drinking, and hunting, but he knew his aunt detested cursing, and he didn't want to dishonour himself in front of her. He'd been at the end of her frosty looks for way too long now. Both sunk into silence as they thought on this, and it was clear that Lord Eddard was struggling with the fact he will barely be around his daughters when he goes. You can only either thrive in Kings Landing or have a life not far from death. 

"And say theoretically, Ser Barristan did figure out the truth, do you think he would betray me to Robert?"

Robb was looking to him in surprise, shocked that his cousin was even considering this. Yes, the opportunity was fantastic, but it is as he put it- incredibly risky. Most of Rhaegar's supporters were executed or sent to the wall, but members of the Kingsguard who were all close to the Prince were pardoned if they swore fealty. There's Ser Jaime, and there's Ser Barristan, how many more are there? All of which were pardoned and due to their oaths, they had no choice but to follow them with Robert Baratheon. How would they react to a trueborn Targaryen heir? One that no one knew about apart from them and Howland Reed? 

"Ser Barristan has always said Rhaegar was the finest man he ever knew. A little hot-headed, but always had people's interests to heart. If he ever did figure it out, I honestly believe he would keep the secret his brothers died protecting. As for Ser Jaime, I highly doubt he would go back on his oaths again, but I don't know if he would betray Tywin by keeping that a secret either. Anyone in their right mind would do all they could to not insult Tywin Lannister of all people."

It was Catelyn who spoke those words and deep down, everyone knew them to be true. But this didn't mean Jon was going to accept. Perhaps he could try to find a way to weave in some questions to the Knight he had impressed with his skills so much he had been asked to squire for him. Try to fish out where his true loyalties lie and decide from there if he could trust the man. Then again, he had served under King Aerys, which wasn't exactly something to brag about. Even now, sixteen years later, the things his grandfather had done still had a profound effect on everything. 

"There are a few days to think on it, are you ready Robb?"

The older nodded and followed his father out the room. Robert had asked them to go on one of his famed hunting trips. How Robert could even do so was almost admirable, he had saw just how drunk the King was the night prior. Catelyn whisked both her and Sansa away for some alone time which left him to his devices. He didn't want to go out into the open and practise again in case he brought any further attention to himself, he'd done enough of that already with one person. Someone he would be versing again later in the day; it would be stupid of him to refuse a Kingsguard request. Instead, he took to wandering around the castle. Trying to find some of the crevices Bran always spoke about but he never could. He doubted his little cousin was lying about them, but he wondered if he'd maybe not said where they actually were. He knew Arya was aware of some of them, he'd witnessed her head peek out of some of them to watch them all sparring and shooting too many times to count. It was deadly still outside though, the hustle and bustle seemingly vanished as most of the guards had gone with the King. But where was the Queen? She didn't seem to be the kind of person to go on a hunting trip. Perhaps she was acquainting herself with the wall of Winterfell like he was. 

He noticed Bran running atop the walls but before he could yell at him to get down, he was already away to another part of the castle. When his wolf had made an appearance, he had no idea. Ghost never made a sound unless it was playful yaps or growling, but this was incredibly rare. The loud ones were Grey Wind, Nymeria, and Shaggydog. But Ghost, Summer, and Lady barely ever made a peep. A good hour must've passed of this simple wandering, but he paused when he noticed his wolf quirk an ear up and make a panicked whimper. Something wasn't right. Ghost took off in a run which Jon followed only to come to the broken tower. It was only used for storage, so what was happening here? Hesitantly, he walked closer and then he noticed Summer sitting at the bottom staring up towards the window. 

Was Bran stuck and Ghost sensed it? He stood a little bit away so he wouldn't be seen in case something else was happening, and he noticed Bran clutched to the outside of the topmost window of the tower, a solid seventy feet drop. He'd seen him up much higher than this before, but why wasn't he moving? One moment he watched as his little cousin was at the window, a blink later and he was falling. Jon saw a flash of what appeared to be another person by the window, but due to the height he couldn't make out who it was or even if it was someone. Before he knew it, he was running. Faster than he ever had as he watched Bran fall. However, he found out the hard way that he wasn't close enough nor was he fast enough a runner. He called out the younger boy's name but it was drowned out by the scream that came from Bran. The sound as his body contacted the ground was nothing short of sickening. He had landed directly on his back, and from the few metres away Jon was, he could hear numerous bones snapping upon impact.


	7. VI.

Jaeron V

For a while, it seemed like the entire place had stilled. Nothing was moving, no snow falling, no cold air blowing in the wind, not even a chirp of a bird. Like sound had disappeared, a loud ringing in Jon's ears at what he had just saw, very much feeling like someone had screamed bloody murder into his eardrum. A sensation he knew well as it was this and dumping freezing cold water that was Arya's favourite wake up call for them all. Well, apart from Sansa, for her it was some sticky goop she concocted and would spread it through her auburn air which took almost an hour to remove every time she did it. But everything came back as soon as Summer howled loud. All the wolves were now howling, but due to how young they were they never lasted long. But this one, it was filled with pain. 

With that, Jon ran over towards his cousin, trying to decide if he could move him or not. His legs were all twisted, and he already knew his back had broken as he had heard the snap it made. He knelt beside him with a hand covering his mouth, hoping to find some life in him. Luckily, he noticed his chest was rising and falling, confirming he was still alive. He had to get to Maester Luwin, now. He commanded the wolves to keep guard of him before running towards the courtyard to ask for help. The hunting party had not gotten back yet, and he dreaded what his uncle and Robb would do when they saw. Catelyn was outside watching everyone, but when her eyes landed on him and saw the panic on his face, she knew something had happened.

"Lady Catelyn, it's Bran. He's fallen from the highest window of the broken tower. I couldn't do anything. He's breathing though, but I'm scared to move him in case I hurt him."

Just like that, her skin turned the colour of curdled milk as she ran towards the tower in question, leaving him to find the Maester. It didn't take him long to do so, him in the library reading as he had some time to himself.

"Maester Luwin, it's Bran. You need to come quickly."

From the hurried way he had spoken, the older man knew that what had happened must've been serious. Jon led him in a rush which he was struggling to keep up with in his Maester's robe and heavy chain around his neck. The Lady was knelt beside him, her sobs loud and breaking the otherwise silence. Luwin made his way over to the boy, doing a quick examination. The boy was breathing, that was a good sign. Guilt ebbed deep inside once again, a feeling Jon had become accustomed to as of late with the revelation of who he really was. 

"Jon, in my solar you will find a board. Bring it to me, we cannot carry him with limbs in case we injure him more."

He immediately obeyed, castle workers giving him odd looks as he rarely ever showed panic. He found the board quickly which was surprisingly light before rushing back to the tower. Out the corner of his eye, he spotted a few riders coming back, signifying the hunt was now over. They would be expecting someone to greet them, but right now he couldn't care about decorum and formality. Speaking of which, where was the Queen? She hadn't gone on the hunt and he hadn't seen her in hours. He shook his head as that was a question that did not need an answer to just now. Summer had stopped howling by now, seemingly realising they were trying to help, and Ghost as usual didn't even make a peep. With the Maester's instructions, they were able to place the ten name-day old boy onto it and carry him towards the castle. Once in the courtyard, he spotted his uncle and other cousins there. Arya immediately went to launch herself at Jon before noticing what he was helping carry. Her eyes widened and began to well up but Jon calmed her down.

"He fell from the broken tower. He's broken his back and looks like his legs are broken as well, but he's alive. Maester Luwin is going to try to help him."

"But Bran never falls!"

"He did, Arya. This time he did."

Jon had already decided not to tell anyone what he thinks he saw. It was such a high drop; it was a miracle he hadn't perished on impact with the ground. But he knew, deep down, he would never be the same again. If he did see someone, it's not guaranteed he was pushed. Perhaps he did fall even though he never had in the past. Heck, they've all seen him running along the seventy-foot walls of stone that surround Winterfell from the outside! It's not like it was a thick wall, perhaps a little more than a foot, and he could possibly fall on both sides of that. But if he did see a person in the tower and they had pushed him, why? Was whoever it was trying to bring him inside and accidentally grabbed him too hard and caused him to lose his footing? Or had they done it with malicious intent? If so, what did Bran see to cause that?

Once Bran was situated in his own chamber, the Maester ordered everyone outside so he could immediately get to work on trying to set the bones despite it being unlikely. If it were one broken bone he would be able to do so, he's had that enough with Arya from climbing trees and running riot everywhere. But the younger had clearly broken multiple, one of which being his back. Gods, please don't let him be paralysed. That would hurt him more than the fall had. Bran had always said he wanted to be a Knight and would love to be inducted into the Kingsguard. 

"Maester, I may have been close enough to break the fall. Would he have been better if I had- "

"No, young Snow. The height in which your brother fell alongside his body weight would've transferred to you. If you tried to break his fall, both of you would be hurt grievously. As horrible as it is, I think your father would rather have four sons over three."

With that, Luwin barricaded the door so he wouldn't be disturbed. Immediately, Catelyn slumped to the ground sobbing with Eddard trying to console her. His uncle looked horrible and he mouthed silently to Jon 'what happened'. He couldn't give an answer though as he wasn't sure if he did see what he did. And if someone had done it- accidental or not- it would be dumb to bring it up in front of the King. 

"Robb and I will watch over Sansa, Arya, and Rickon. And we'll try to help with any duties we can so you can stay here for news on Bran. But it does look like he will live, so at least that's something."

Ned gave the two of them a weird look, clearly scared in case anyone got offended or even worse, recognised Jon, but he knew he had to do his duty to his wife by being there for her as their son was being healed to the best of Luwin's abilities. Hesitantly, he nodded, knowing it would be the best thing currently. Like expected, when Jon scooped Arya into his arms she immediately began kicking him, wanting to remain here with her little brother. But she was eleven, no one of such an age should bear witness to this. Both looked around for Sansa and they got their answer as they saw her carrying Rickon to his own room, clearly falling asleep at some point. 

Jon's room was the closest so they immediately went there, locking the door behind him. He knew he could trust Robb, and he knew Arya would not forgive him if he kept something like that from her. By now, the youngest had stopped with her tantrum and began crying hard.

"Arya, he's alive."

She took a few deep breaths before nodding into Jon's chest.

"What happened?"

He sighed deeply before eyeing the eggs out the corner of his eyes, wanting to look at anything but his cousins right now.

"He was running around as usual. I was bored so I was walking around too. I ended up at the tower and he was right outside the topmost window, but he wasn't moving. He was just standing there like he was watching something. I didn't think anything was up because I've seen him up higher than that before and he's never fallen. Then I blinked, and I heard Summer howling. He was already more than halfway down when I realised what was happening. I tried to run over to help break his fall by letting him land on me or possibly catch him so the impact wouldn't be as bad, but I wasn't quick enough. But Robb, I don't know if I was imagining it or if it was a trick of the light or something- but I swear I saw someone standing at the window- "

"You what?! Then we need to find out who it was- "

"I don't know for certain if I did, that is a seventy-foot tower cousin. I also don't want to cause trouble for everyone. But don't you think it's odd that Bran has never fallen yet one day into this visit he does?"

He knows he was probably talking out of his arse currently, but somehow he knew. Something was amiss, the timing of it was too coincidental. The King out on a hunt with most of the entourage, The Queen nowhere in sight, a tower that nobody entered unless it was to get some food storage? What did Bran witness? 

"You think someone in the King's entourage pushed him, don't you?"

Jon simply nodded to confirm his cousin's suspicions. Robb was of a military and strategic mind, he knew if they went around claiming someone had pushed the ten name-day old Bran from that window, it would be pandemonium. And everything else is chaotic enough as is. Hesitantly, he shut his mouth as he understood Jon's point of view. He would've reacted the same as he was currently. Arya on the other hand had finally stopped crying but she was looking at the eggs with interest. He walked over and picked them up, placing the boiling hot shells on his bed.

"Remember, you promised me you would take me on a ride when they do- "

"No, I didn't. You demanded it then walked out if I remember correctly."

In response, she simply stuck her tongue out at him, causing Robb to chuckle deeply. It felt horrible laughing with what was going on, but they had to distract themselves somehow. 

"I don't want to go to Kings Landing now. I want to stay with Bran to make sure he's ok, remain with the pack- "

"You've agreed to go now, Arya. If you backtrack it will come across as an insult. I know what happens when Robert Baratheon is insulted as I'm orphaned because of it and must live in hiding. I don't want either of you to go through the same as me."

She tightened her lips at this and was about to retort, but with a quirk of the boy's eyebrows, she didn't and thought it all through. Jon was correct, he wouldn't be orphaned if it weren't for Robert Baratheon being incapable of taking the word 'no'. How Sansa defended the man when he had wronged her own blood so much was blood boiling, hopefully she comes to her senses and gets her head out the clouds. She'd always wanted to marry someone higher than her, and a Prince being the same age as her, was what she was determined to achieve. She marries Prince Joffrey; it means she will be Queen one day. But she seems to forget there's a literal Prince in Winterfell secretly. Or was he King? It was difficult to say considering she was still learning the rights of succession. 

"Come on, I'll meet you outside. I think it's time you learn how to wield a blade."

Just like that, a massive smile broke out on her face. It was only Jon who could bring a smile like that out on her. Not even her nasty pranks brightened her day as well as that. He'd heard what she'd done to Sansa the night prior at the feast. Using her spoon to throw jam, honey, and bits of mashed potato at her. And if talks were true, a blood orange as well which ruined Sansa's dress. There was no denying the redhead was furious at her little sister, she hadn't spoken to her the entire day and Catelyn was giving her stern glares. The Lady doesn't mind the kids playing pranks on one another, she did so with Lysa and Edmure when she was a child too, but not in front of nobility. Once they were out in the courtyard, she immediately removed the knife Robb had commissioned for her during the parades. Where was she hiding it? 

"Arya, not with a sharp blade for goodness sake. Go grab a wooden sword."

She pouted at this but her puppy look got her nowhere as she swapped her weapon. A smile came onto Jon's face at the style she had grabbed. A longsword. Mikken gave him a wink which he smiled back at, ignoring the confused glances of the other two. Robb grabbed one that mimicked a shortsword which was his preferred, and Jon like Arya took a longsword. Robb knew there was no way he was going to beat his cousin; he was far more advanced than he was in the art. But they do have completely different fighting styles. With Arya's stature, she would probably be better with speed, meaning Jon would probably be best to teach her as he was rapid when he wanted to be. Him moving slowly was Robb's moving strategically. He showed her how to stand and he frowned at remembering Arya's dominant hand was her left which would make training her rather awkward as not many people were. Once she had her stance down, he instructed he was going to swing at her and she had to try to block.

An hour quickly passed, the young girl picking up things incredibly fast. Whenever she made a mistake, and she was corrected, she never did it again. And Robb was correct in his assessment she would prefer speed. She was short, over a head shorter than the eldest three, and she was extremely skinny meaning she had little to no muscle. This was broken when the Lord came out to greet them. He quirked an eyebrow up at what they were doing and they all looked down sheepishly, but this disappeared as they waited on a response.

"Your brother is alive, and he will make it through. Maester Luwin has managed to repair his legs, but he was unable to do so on his back. He gave him milk of the poppy and we are just waiting on him waking up now before he can run tests to see if he can walk still."

They all nodded at this, all relieved massively that he was going to be okay. Ned eyed his children before asking why they were not in their lessons, both looking down embarrassed before heading off after discarding their wooden swords.

"Whose idea was it to teach Arya sword fighting?"

Jon tightened his lips at this, knowing full well it was him.

"I don't mind her being taught, heck I helped teach your mother when our own mother forbade it alongside Brandon. But be careful, she is only eleven. Have you decided yet?"

At first, he was confused by what he had asked him, then he remembered what he had been offered. He'd been offered an opportunity he likely would never get again, but could he take it? Did he want to risk it? Moreover, did he want to accept now that Bran may be injured in a much worse way than a few broken bones? 

"I want to, but I honestly don't think I can. What with Bran and with the possibility of being outed and everything blowing up- "

Ned simply nodded which shut him up from his ramblings, and he tilted his head in a silent 'follow me'. Jon obeyed immediately, feeling immensely guilty over what he had accused his uncle of regarding the King. He's prideful, whether that came from his mother or father he would never know. His father was dead months before he was born and his mother died bringing him into the world. The closest things to parents he would ever have would be his aunt and uncle- the former of which he is only just starting to get along with. There was always going to be animosity between the pair, but both hope to eventually get to a point where they consider one another family because they were- just through marriage and not blood. When they entered the castle itself, they were met with the King, Queen, Prince, Ser Jaime, Ser Barristan, and Tyrion Lannister. All expressed their condolences but Jon didn't fail to notice the slight eye roll the Prince gave but he doubted anyone else noticed it. His stature proving that he wasn't remorseful at all. 

"Jon, you don't need to accept right now. I will not uproot someone who is sixteen name-days after something like that. If you ever want to take up my offer, I'm a raven away."

He smiled tightly at this and nodded, making sure not to look him in the eyes. The way he spoke was genuine, a stark change from him and the Prince. Joffrey had seemingly inherited nothing from his father apart from perhaps his sense of entitlement. Then again, his mother was a Lannister and the Lannister's were the wealthiest House in Westeros. 

"Bran is asleep, my wife is watching over him, but I think we need to talk."

The younger nodded in response. Ever since he told him the truth, there's seemingly been a barrier between the two. Ned wanting to be there whilst defending the man he called best friend, then there's Jon feeling betrayed by him for defending the man who had murdered his father because he did not take no for an answer. The letters confirmed that Lyanna had told him that she wanted to break off the betrothal after he had shamed her at Harrenhal, something that was not talked about at all. They had met once not long after the betrothal had been set up, but they did not meet again until that fated tourney. One day in to getting to know the man she was supposed to marry and he had already been boasting about fucking two whores at a nearby pleasure house. He was led into his uncles solar and was gestured to sit in front of him. 

"How did the hunt go?"

That seemed like a good place to start. They needed to put an end to this animosity. Fighting wars with one another was not a good thing for wolves- and especially not dragons. Everyone knew how the latter had turned out, it almost being the end of the Targaryen line. 

"Robert took down a boar, your brother took down a deer, but that was all."

The younger tightened his lips as he realised his uncle did not refer to the King by titles, simply by name. This meant one of two things. He still considered him a friend, or he had saw him for who he really was. 

"I'm sorry Jon, for what I said to you regarding forgiveness. It's not right for me to tell you to forgive the man who pretty much started it all. Yes, it was the deaths of my father and brother which kick started it into full-blown war. But this wouldn't have happened if Robert didn't spread the lie that Lyanna was kidnapped by your father. He's not the boy I grew up with in the Eyrie anymore, a familiar stranger basically."

He remained tight lipped, knowing he had to reign in his temper currently as he wasn't going to argue with Ned. Especially not with what had happened hours before or the fact that they had royal visitors. However, he tried to put himself in his shoes. Deep down, he knew that Eddard was holding on to a tiny slither of hope that he would be reunited with the boy he fostered with under Jon Arryn. Hoping that the death of the Hand would bring them close together again. Clearly, this had not been the case. Either the King had always hidden his wants, he got corrupted over time by power, or he was corrupted by his goodfamily. There would never be a response to that because he knew how stupid it would be to go to Tywin Lannister and accuse him of something like that, and the King would probably just laugh in their faces.

"I spent many years with Robert, Jon. Every day with one another, believing we would be goodbrother's after my sister passed her sixteenth name-day. Yes, marriages can occur from a younger age than this, but my father was stern on that. He wanted her to be a woman grown before she married. Openly, my father was the only person who was able to outdo Robert on his temper. But the day your mother went missing and him coming up claiming your father kidnapped her- that changed everything. He was always fed by adrenaline in a battle, and once he makes his mind up- there's no changing it no matter what you do. Then to me finding your mother in her birthing bed bleeding out with you in her arms after being born hours before. Finding out the truth of it all.

"I've never felt disgust like that in my life. Not even when I walked in to find Robert on that throne being presented with the mutilated bodies of Elia and your older siblings. That act was barbaric, but he had no hand in it. That was all Tywin, so I couldn't hold him accountable for the callousness of that. But her telling me she told him, telling me she had planned with Rhaegar to escape and that he'd had his marriage to Elia annulled when Prince Aegon was a month old so he was free to marry her. That her and Elia were close with one another and the Dornish Princess was fully aware of what it meant for her. I don't know if they were friends, but I know they respected one another greatly. And for Northerners and the Dornish- respect is much more valued than friendship."

As much as it hurt to hear him talking about what had happened, Jon knew he had to get everything out there. There was no need to drag this out longer than intended. Especially as in a few days he will be leaving for Kings Landing with Sansa and Arya. It could be months or possibly years before they see one another again when this happens. 

"I wish I could say I regret that I talked highly of him, especially in front of you. But I don't think I can. As much as I don't agree with what he stands for or what he did to further his own agenda, I can't forget the boy I grew up with and considered a brother."

The words stung, there was no other way to put it. However, he understood. Ned grew up with the man, considered him a sibling despite them not being that, and one had betrayed the other in a horrible way. But due to too many memories created it was difficult to let it all go. Something big would need to happen for Lord Eddard to openly condemn the man. The last time he had did so that was known was when he had called him out over laughing at three bodies being presented to him. There are two known Targaryen's in the world, and possibly another two as well even though no one has heard from them in many years. Two either on the run or already dead, one at the wall as a sworn Maester, he was the only Targaryen left who could actively make a difference currently.

"I understand uncle now that you've explained your reasonings. Just, be careful please. Kings Landing holds bad memories for both families, especially with the Lannister's being married into the throne. You're the only father figure I've ever known and will ever know, and I've got five cousins I care deeply for. Even Sansa despite her open support for the Baratheon claim. You've risked so much for me, and I had no right to hold you accountable for it like I did when you told me the truth. You swore an oath to my mother to protect me, and you did that with the threat of being labelled a traitor by everyone. Risking not only your life, but your wife's, your goodfamily, Benjen, your children. I know you hate oaths, but please promise me one thing. You won't do anything stupid, and if you hear anything about my aunt or uncle, please send me a raven. I don't know if they're alive or dead, and I need that closure. As does Maester Aemon."

Eddard IV

Ned remained silent for a few moments before reaching a hand over and gripping Jon's tightly. No words needed to be shared for the oath to be valid. The older knew he was walking into a dangerous position, and he was bringing his daughters with him. His eldest daughter betrothed to Prince Joffrey now. To say he was displeased by the Prince was an understatement. Throughout the entire hunt he had simply been boasting about how he was incredibly proficient in swordplay and could hit the bullseye all the time with a bow. How he had never missed a shot when hunting with Robert in the Kingswood directly on the border of the Crownlands and Stormlands. Something that Robb had stopped when he challenged the young Prince to a spar when they got back, something that Joffrey quietened on and didn't look the heir of Winterfell in the eye the rest of the trip. It was obvious the boy was bluffing, trying to impress everyone, thinking it gained him respect and a sense of superiority. Yes, it gave him the latter, but the former? If anything, the Prince was making himself out to be nothing but a spoiled brat. But Sansa wanted the betrothal, had practically begged for him to agree. And he couldn't say no to his children when they really wanted something. 

"My Lord, your wife is requesting to speak to you. She's received a letter."

Ned frowned deeply at this and when Jon nodded, he followed the Maester. What letter did she receive? What was on it? Who sent it? Where was it sent from? He was led to a spare room close to where Bran was still unconscious, and he noticed her frantically pacing the room. Clearly the contents were troubling. She nodded her head to let the Maester know he was welcome to stay in the room, but Luwin refused, boarding the door behind him. Catelyn walked over and handed the note to her husband to read.

Petyr claims to have heard Cersei and Jaime Lannister talking about silencing my husband for good. Says he also has proof there was more to it than a simple fever. I was with my husband for most of the day alongside our son hours before he passed. Sister, I think he was poisoned with something that leaves no trace. I spoke to Grand Maester Pycelle a few days after this enquiring about symptoms Jon had but not naming him, apparently there is a poison that was requested a couple of days prior by Tywin Lannister that matches the descriptions. Tears of Lys. One that is clear, no taste, and leaves no trace. 

Upon reading this, all colour drained from Ned's face. A part of him didn't want to hold Lysa Arryn's words to truth because at best she was paranoid. But if what she had written was truth, then she had every reason to be paranoid. Of course, he suspected there may have been foul play at hand, but this seemingly confirmed everything. He turned it over to see the seal and was surprised to see it was sent from the Eyrie. Jon's ancestral home, at the top of a huge mountain and nigh on impregnable. Why had she fled? 

"Ned please, call off this agreement. This is too much, it's way too dangerous- "

"Cat, perhaps she's theorising- "

The look he got in response immediately made him shut his mouth.

"Ned, Lysa may be a little odd shall we say, but she's not stupid. If she thinks it's a threat then it probably is. The fact she has fled to the Eyrie, which is hundreds of miles away in the Vale, most likely with her son as he will now be the Lord of said castle and Warden of the East despite his sickly nature and age. She wouldn't have done that if the threat weren't real. Yes, it's possible that Jon did die from a fever through the night, but if the symptoms match a poison that was requested a couple of days prior by the Lannister's- you can't deny that's one hell of a coincidence. And I trust Petyr. Yes, he shamed himself for challenging Brandon for my hand, but I've known him since I was a little girl when he was a ward of my father."

The Lord tightened his lips at her words, her reasoning making an awful lot of sense. But it did little to untie the mess his head was now in. First Robert, then Bran, and now this. In a little more than a day, their lives have turned upside down. 

"I don't want to agree to this, and I most certainly don't want to betroth Sansa of Joffrey after seeing what he's like today. But I can't say no to her, she's always wanted to be a Princess Cat- "

"She still can be. You're forgetting we've got a hidden Prince in this castle right now. That way she is a Princess but she remains home where she is safe."

He sighed at this before handing her the parchment which she immediately threw in the fire so no one else saw its contents. If that fell into the wrong hands they would be in an even worse state.

"She'll kick up a fuss at that. She's determined to marry Joffrey. Plus, she and Jon are cousins- "

"As were your parents, Ned. Cousin to cousin marriages aren't shamed in the eyes of the seven. No, it's not common, but it does happen. Plus, Jon is a Targaryen, to them incest is nothing. Rhaella and Aerys were brother and sister. Aegon wedded both his sisters and got a son from both. It's not the worst match for her."

He could only nod at this, knowing full well it would be a better match for her safety. But it was a match both would probably decline. Jon is still a bastard in most people's eyes, if he were to betroth them to one another, they would need to tell the truth. A bastard marrying the eldest daughter of the Lord of Winterfell and Warden of the North? No one would stand for that. But they likely wouldn't stand for a Stark-Targaryen match either after everything that had happened. 

"It would be a better match for her safety, but the truth of everything would then need to come out which in turn means we may be in an even worse position than we would if she goes through with marrying the Prince."

As much as she hated to admit it, she knew he was correct. 

"Just be careful, and don't do anything stupid."

He snorted loud at that, causing her to give him a weird look.

"Jon said the exact same to me when we were talking in my solar. You two are more alike than you think."

Catelyn simply whacked him jokingly across the chest but he could see tears welling up in her eyes. She's terrified, rightfully so. He is too. But he knew one thing, he was going to find out the truth of what happened to Jon Arryn, he would just need to tread very carefully as spies were everywhere in King's Landing. With that said, both left the room to be with their injured son. The Maester had given him a heavier dose of milk of the poppy so he would be asleep for a few days at least to allow his body to heal a little. Throughout the day, the other kids came to see him, Rickon crying immediately as he didn't understand why his brother couldn't get up and play with him. 

Upon hearing this, Arya took it upon herself to entertain her little brother. From Sansa's face, it was clear he had run her ragged earlier in the chaos that ensued. The eldest two snorted at that, if he wore the redhead's patience down, he was going to practically break Arya. But they weren't going to say anything on the matter, now is not the time for japes. The next few days were much the same. Bran very much looked like he was dead, it was only the rising of his chest that confirmed he was still alive. Like expected, caring for Rickon was now falling onto Robb and Jon as the girls had both given up on how hyper and borderline wild he was. He was so bad that Catelyn refused to allow Shaggydog to sleep in his room with him, he was even more wild than his human companion. 

Jaeron VI

However, the day eventually came where three members of the family were uprooting and going to Kings Landing. A day all but Sansa were dreading. The morning of it she had ignored all decorum protocols by shoving as much food as she could get into her mouth before running to find Joffrey. She was already head over heels for the Prince, and she had gotten it into her head she would be his Princess and his only. But before she could leave the room, Jon stopped her. He hesitated on getting her something considering they were never close and she openly spoke against his claim, but she was his cousin. And the pack stays together, wolf or dragon. He handed her the small box over which she took hesitantly before opening it. Her mouth falling open in amazement. 

It was a bracelet, a rather simple one but the clasp was made of two snarling Direwolves. One of which held a stark resemblance to her own wolf Lady. There were some gemstones inlaid in the item, but she had no idea what kind it was. It was a dusty grey and it seemed to change patterns every time the light hit it. 

"Thank you."

She didn't hug him or do anything like that. It may be an insult to embrace the bastard of the family. But those two words meant a lot to the older boy.

"Be careful, Sansa. I don't trust him but if he makes you happy I'll support you. You don't need to worry about me pressing on a claim any time soon because I want nothing to do with it. But keep us all updated please."

Now, she had some tears building in her eyes before nodding her head. With that, she walked away. He waited a few minutes before walking towards Mikken who had made him aware the night prior the sword was complete. It was much skinnier than Dark Sister was, the weight and balance considerably lighter, but it would fit Arya perfectly. He found her in her bedroom packing her clothes away in an incredibly messy manner, Nymeria at the bottom of her bed looking at her with interest. How would the wolves fair down south? They were already further south than they had been for hundreds of years, would they be alright? Sansa and Arya wouldn't let any harm come to them though, the girls were incredibly protective over their pets. 

"Don't tell father I got you this, ok?"

She eyed him oddly before turning to him, before her eyes landed on the tiny scabbard. Immediately, her eyes widened and she began jumping up and down. He handed it over to her and watched as she unsheathed it to examine it. The hilt was a black leather to make for better grip, the pommel a roaring direwolf, with the same stone in the centre of the hilt as was in Sansa's bracelet. 

"It's not Dark Sister, but it's of a similar style. It won't cause a huge amount of damage due to how skinny it is, but if you're quick enough you can poke someone full of holes. Now Arya, this is no toy, you'll need to work at it for at least a couple of hours a day every day. And remember the first thing about swordplay, stick them with the pointy end."

He snorted as she retorted 'I know which end to use'. Carefully, she placed it down on her bed before leaping into his arms one more time, tucking her face into her older cousin's neck as she did so.

"I'll miss you, Arya. But we'll see each other again. And when we do, you can show me how good you've gotten with that. Are you going to name it?"

She went quiet for a few moments before nodding. She pulled away to look him directly in the eye.

"Sansa can keep her sewing needles. I have a Needle of my own."

Jon could only snort loud at the response. Two hours later and they were all saddled up ready to leave. Catelyn was trying desperately not to cry, Robb had a stern look on his face as he was now the acting Lord, but to Jon he could see he was a nervous wreck. Rickon was buried into his mother's skirts openly sobbing as his father and sisters rode out of the courtyard. Life in Winterfell was going to change drastically from now on. It's unknown how long Ned will remain Hand to Robert for, be it a few months or possibly a few years. But they do have communication they can use, and they can make visits on occasion as well. This is not going to be the last time they see one another.


	8. VII.

Jaeron VII

They had all been dreading this moment for days, and all thought they had been prepared for it. But as they watched their own entourage leaving the courtyard after the three of them, it became a reality. Jon spotted Robb's facial expression flicker for a moment before adopting that lordly mask he had perfected over the last couple of years. By now, Rickon was punching Catelyn's leg and screaming for a response to why they were leaving them. Normally, the Lady scolded such behaviour. He should know, he's been at the end of it a lot more often than his cousins considering for many years she had thought him to be a stain on their family. To an extent, he was a stain to the family. No matter what, he was always going to be an outsider apart from his colouring which confirmed he had Stark blood in him. Blood that everyone apart from a select few believed to be from Ned Stark and not Lyanna Stark. Or had she been Lyanna Targaryen as she had married his father? 

That was a question he would need to ask Catelyn on. He'd made note that the Queen was introduced as Cersei Lannister and not Cersei Baratheon. Was that just a different decorum for those who were royalty? Jon rarely saw the Queen, seemingly keeping to herself. But on the few occasions he heard her he got the impression she was spoiled and believed herself to be higher than everyone else. A sense of entitlement that was well-known with the Lannister's. He'd even got that feeling from Tyrion for openly calling him a bastard and trying to compare himself to being one as well when he was not. Yes, the imp of Casterly Rock was looked down upon by many, but he had a higher pedestal to most. Everyone knew the Lannister's; everyone feared the Lannister's due to Tywin's approach to leading his family to be at the top of the pyramid of other houses.

It was eerily silent when they were the only ones left, workers immediately going back to what they were doing previously. Catelyn knelt now to pick up her youngest child and it hurt seeing Rickon punch her chest. She didn't openly chastise him, but she did give him a stern look which only made his wailing amplify. Robb gave Jon a challenging look, but the younger could see the sadness in his features. Both made their way to Robb's solar now, it being much different to Jon's. First, it was considerably larger. Second, instead of books everywhere there was maps and documents. He knew that Ned had started asking him with answering to letters to better prepare him for taking over once no longer could. 

"Is this how you felt when you found out the truth? Being thrust into a position you don't want and don't feel ready for?"

Jon could only nod as he walked over to some of the maps. Obviously, the largest Kingdom was the North. It alone being the same size as the rest put together. Yet, the combined population of it was less than the population of Kings Landing. It was said the city was filthy and constantly stank of shit, but that could all be lies. However, it was true that the city was filled with spies and people who would betray everyone without a moment's hesitation. They would be travelling via the Kings Road. A single straight road that went from Castle Black all the way down to Kings Landing hundreds of miles away. They would be passing the easternmost parts of the Barrowlands, going by Moat Cailin, through the famed swamps of the Neck, bordering the Vale and Riverlands, before entering the Crownlands to the city.

"What did you say to Sansa earlier to have her smile so much? I don't think I can recall her ever smiling at you for many months."

The younger traced the road a few times with his finger, also imprinting in his mind where the castles and holdfasts were situated. 

"I gifted her and Arya something for when they depart. I got Arya a small sword in a similar style to Dark Sister which she was delighted with. Sansa, I got her a bracelet commissioned. I also told her I don't plan on pressing a claim any time soon and if the Prince truly makes her happy, then I'll respect the match."

Robb snorted loudly at the last statement, making it obvious he disliked Joffrey as well. 

"You know, I overheard mother and father the other day. They received a letter of some kind but I didn't hear what it was about. Mother was begging for him to call off the betrothal to Joffrey and promise her to you instead."

At hearing this, Jon froze on the spot before slowly tilting his head to look at his older cousin. This was the first he was hearing of such a thing. No one had mentioned it to him, and from the way Robb was wording it confirmed he had been eavesdropping on his parents. Why would Catelyn be pushing for Jon to marry Sansa instead of Joffrey when she was clearly smitten with the Prince? It was so unlike her to want to refuse her daughter what she wanted. Which meant whatever was in the letter was dangerous information.

"They said something about it being better for her safety, but father confirmed it probably wouldn't. The Lords of the North still think you're my bastard brother and not trueborn cousin, they wouldn't stand for a bastard marrying the daughter of the Warden of the North. But they probably won't stand for a Stark-Targaryen match either. As much as I hate to say it, she's probably safest with father in Kings Landing. At least she has Jeyne with her to keep her occupied because I doubt she's going to be friendly with Arya any time soon after that stunt she pulled at the feast."

Steadily, Jon sat down on Robb's bed, letting this information sink in. He always knew it would be dangerous if he were to press on his claim. Yes, he's made his mind up he will in the future, but it will not be any time soon. If he does so, it's a high possibility that the Lords of the North will revolt against Ned, and when they find out the truth will revolt against the Baratheon's. It will be war all out.

"Robb, you're of a military mind and you have much more training than I do on it. Answer me something. Say theoretically I were to press on my claim, what houses could I trust?"

To say the older was shocked at the question was an understatement. But then his words rippled in his mind. He isn't going to press a claim any time soon, but not forever. Eventually, he plans to do so, and he wants to be prepared. It warmed the older greatly that he was entrusting him with this knowledge. He pulled out a few sheets of parchment that contained the main houses of the Kingdoms that made up Westeros, going down them in a list and marking those off that would be unreliable.

The Northern Lords it could go either way, it was hard to say. It's known that they are prideful on acting for the better good. If they find out the rebellion was based on a lie, they will take it as a heavy insult. Either way there is going to be a revolt from them so Robb left a question mark beside them. The Vale Lords were much the same as the Northern ones, but they had a main difference. They were under command of Jon Arryn who fostered both Ned and Robert. If he found out what Robert had done and that he had betrayed Ned so horribly, there is no question he would rally towards the Stark's and Targaryen's. They were also tied via marriage bonds to the Stark's, and as Jon was a direct relative of the Stark's, there would be a tie there even though it was weak. The Riverlands were no question. Catelyn was the daughter of the Lord Paramount of the Riverlands and Lord of Riverrun. Due to a direct family tie, they would without question rally for the Stark's. 

Then it got tricky.

The Reach was a potential candidate considering it was known the Tyrell's were staunch Targaryen supporters. However, it was also known that Lord Mace had avoided the fighting by setting up a siege. This may be considered an insult to those who would rally to his cause. The Crownlands, Stormlands, and Westerlands were a definite no due to their ties to the Baratheon's and the Iron Throne. Which left Dorne and the Iron Islands. It was common knowledge the Iron Islands were practically a separate country. They had their own way of life, they voted for who took over as Lord as opposed to succession, they had their own religion. It was unlikely they would do anything, but they would be incredibly valuable. Plus, they have Theon as a hostage disguised as a Ward. Play their cards right and they get the Islands and the famed Iron Fleet. 

Dorne however, was another matter entirely. In Elia's letters he knew that Prince Doran and Prince Oberyn were aware of her annulment to Rhaegar. But they had married to have closer ties to the throne and to slight Tywin Lannister. If they rallied to their cause, the Lion would not take kindly to it and this may cause another war. They were vengeful though, why would they not be? Their Princess and her children had been butchered on someone else's orders and Robert had laughed at the bodies. This meant that the Martell's clearly despised the Lannister's and Baratheon's massively, which was a link. Like the Vale, there was a faint family link too considering the murdered Prince and Princess would've been Jon's siblings. No, they would never consider him their nephew, but they would consider that he was related to their niece and nephew. 

The more he thought on it, the more they seemed like the most likely candidate. They thirsted for revenge and wanted to avenge their fallen, heavily slighted by the King, and despised the Lannister's. They were aware that Elia and Rhaegar had annulled their marriage not long after Aegon was born and both agreed to the decision. Rhaegar did not force her to do it nor did she force him to do so. It was an amicable separation, and it was agreed that Rhaegar made a decree that Elia's children would be first in succession if he and Lyanna had children. If the decree were filed, this would without question be in the citadel, which was in the Reach. There was a flaw in the logic though, the Reach and Dorne never really got along. At best they tolerated one another. The best way to solve tension was through an alliance, and the best way to set an alliance was through marriage. 

Doran had three children and he himself was widowed. The older Prince would probably never marry again considering he was notoriously sickly as had Elia been, and preferred to stay out of everything. Prince Oberyn was also a no considering he was known to have numerous mistresses and one preferred Paramour, alongside numerous bastard children. The Reach followed the Seven to the last part of the book, no Lady in the Reach would take him to wed. This left Doran's children. Arianne, Quentyn, and Tristayne.

"How old are Prince Doran's children, Robb?"

The older gave his cousin an odd look at this, trying to figure out where he was going with this. 

"I believe Princess Arianne is twenty-four or is nearing said age. I've heard father say something about her being half Lyanna's age when the rebellion happened. Your mother was sixteen when she died which meant she would've been eight then, and it's been sixteen years. Prince Quentyn is a few years younger than her, either in his late teens or early twenties. And Prince Tristayne was born a year after Prince Joffrey was, so he is thirteen- possibly twelve, depending when his name-day is. How come?"

"Apart from the Riverlands, Vale, and the North, Dorne is probably the most desired Kingdom I would want to my name when I decide to do it. But they will want proof of the decree filed by my father to confirm Rhaenys and Aegon were still in line of succession before doing so. Prince Doran may take it as a slight if they don't have this and Prince Oberyn almost certainly will. However, this will be in the citadel, which is in Oldtown. The relationship between the Reach and Dorne isn't exactly friendly- "

Robb opened his mouth in understanding at what Jon was insinuating. 

"You're thinking of getting the two to ally with one another through marriage. But who would you betroth to one another?"

Jon thought long and hard into this one, who would he betroth together? It would need to be done in a calculating manner that would benefit all sides massively. The Martell's were Lord Paramount's of Dorne, which stood to sense they would prefer to be matched with someone of higher or similar position- meaning the Tyrell's. There were four Tyrell children. Willas was the heir, but he was crippled by Prince Oberyn in an accident, so he was out the game. There was Garlan, who was known to have a famous temper and not being forgiving, so he would likely not be an option. Loras was also said to have a similar temperament to Garlan but he wasn't spoke of much. Well, unless the rumours of his preference for men were true. Same sex relationships were common in Dorne, so he couldn't be ruled out. Which left Margaery as the best candidate. The only daughter of Mace and commonly known as the golden flower of Highgarden. Said to be a couple of years older than Robb and Jon. He could betroth her to Quentyn. This would tie the Reach and Dorne together.

"Margaery and Quentyn would probably be best. This leaves Arianne and Tristayne- "

"You could betroth Arya to Tristayne, although she would hate it with a passion. But they would encourage her tendencies as warrior women are common in Dorne just like they are in the North. However, I have a strong feeling Sansa will come to her senses soon and will want the betrothal with Joffrey broken, which would leave her to be tied to them. That ties Dorne with the North alongside the Reach."

Jon hummed at this, Robb's logic was sound, there was no denying that fact. But who would Arianne be betrothed to? He could say himself despite the age difference, but if he were to press a claim he would need to pick someone to wed who was without question the most advantageous. She was a strong contender, but there will be more. In the case he couldn't promise himself to her, who could he promise her to? The most obvious choice would be someone who would ally due to familial ties such as the Riverlands or the Vale. But the Lord of the Vale was a young boy and was sickly. This meant they were out of the equation. The Riverlands was a possibility. Edmure had no children and had not been wed before. But he was considerably older than her. No, age didn't matter when it came to betrothals. After all, Jon Arryn was thrice Lysa's age when they wed. 

"It's a risky one, but I think it may be a possibility. Renly Baratheon."

Jon's eyebrows immediately rose on his forehead, he had not expected his cousin to say that name.

"He's a couple of years younger than she is, and it would tie the Stormlands into it. It would tear the Kingdom apart with those who are loyal to Robert and those who are not. If the truth got out, the Stormlands Lords would not take kindly to it in the slightest. They would take heavy insult that their Lord placed a claim on a false truth. Stannis is known to be a stern man who believes in the rules of conquest if the claim is valid. If he finds out the claim was invalid, he will openly disown Robert. This puts the King into a corner that will be difficult to break free from. From one side he will have Lannister's, and the other side he will have people revolting against him. The truth will come out if this is the case. Renly despises Robert and he dislikes Stannis as well, but he respects him more than the eldest Baratheon."

"And as Stannis is already married, he cannot marry again. Isn't he married to Selyse Florent? Well, Selyse Baratheon now."

Robb simply nodded, wondering why Jon was asking this. He went quiet for a few moments before he realised what he had just insinuated, a large smirk coming onto his face. The Florent's were a well-known family in the Reach, which would further tie them into the equation. She would be a distant cousin to the Tyrell children, meaning there was familial bonds there. With those words spoken, both went through every main house in the Kingdom's there were, deciding who was the most likely candidates. Technically, they were committing treason for planning a conquest, but this one was to set facts straight and to give the rightful heir what was his. He dreaded how Robert Baratheon would react when he found out there was at least two Targaryen's still in the world.

"Boys? The Lady wishes to speak to you both."

They snapped out of their planning at that to eye Maester Luwin who was looking at them oddly. He wasn't bound to either of them, simply sworn to serve the castle and nothing else. To be certain though, they filed away what they had been writing down and followed him to where Catelyn was. Unsurprisingly, she was in Bran's room. Her second son still sound asleep but slowly recovering. Luwin reached over to feel the boys forehead, nodding to himself that he wasn't burning up so there didn't appear to be signs of fever building up. The Lady looked more frazzled than either of them had ever saw her, but with everything that was happening that was to be expected of her. 

"I've been thinking hard about something. I went to the window where Bran fell from and the ledge is a metre thick. I've seen him running across walls much thinner than that. There's also an extremely strong vine outside it, no amount of tugging on that made it come loose plus there were no vines on the ground when he fell. He's got a strong grip, just not the best aim."

All tightened their lips at this, her conclusion tying in with what Jon was sure he had saw. 

"I don't think he fell, or if he did, not of his own accord. I think he was pushed. I found this in the room."

She reached her hand out and all frowned at seeing it was a clump of curly blonde hair. It wasn't dirty which made it look as though it hadn't been there for long. So, someone was in the tower recently. Possibly at the same time Bran was there but this would be hard to prove. Someone with long curly blonde hair. No one in Winterfell had blonde hair apart from a couple of servants, but none of theirs was curly. Meaning it was someone from the visit who was in there.

"I think he stumbled across something he wasn't supposed to see, and to stop it getting out, they tried to kill him."

By now, Jon was biting the insides of his cheeks so much that they were almost bleeding, and he could see Robb's anger building up as he knew what Jon saw. He had to tell her; he couldn't keep it from her.

"My Lady?"

Catelyn turned to him in surprise he was referring to her with formality in private, having gotten used to him calling her aunt since they had been told the truth. Then she remembered that Maester Luwin was in the room, as was Ser Rodrik at the opposite side of the room. 

"I didn't want to say anything in case I imagined things, but in light of this, it seems I wasn't. When I noticed him, he was standing at the window completely still, which is odd for him. Bran can never stay still; he always runs all over the place. But when he started falling I- I saw a shadow. It looked like a person. It was only there for a split second but- "

He trailed off after this as panic began to seep into his bones. If their suspicions were correct and it was someone from the King and Queen's entourage who was in the tower when Bran fell, this meant his uncle and cousins were with them. And it was known that Bran had survived the fall, meaning said person would be treading carefully or planning on finding another way to silence whatever he had seen. 

"We need to send a letter to father to alert him- "

"They will be intercepting letters, Jon. We can't do that."

Well, there goes that. By now, Robb was practically seething and it was clear Catelyn was much the same. The main difference between the two as in Catelyn Tully's blue eyes, there was a shred of panic. Clearly the same reaction Jon was having.

"Surely there's a way?"

"If I may my lady, there's a trick I was taught as a boy and it was known Brandon, Ned, and Lyanna used it too when they were planning on when to train her as her mother wasn't fond of the idea. If you mix lemon juice with water and use this as ink, it dries completely clear and can only be seen in front of a flame. We could wait a week or so and then send the raven. Since they are going by the Kings Road, they should be at the Inn of the Crossroads at that time so we can send it there and leave instructions for the innkeeper to give to him and what to do."

All eyes widened apart from Ser Rodrik, him remembering all-too-well the trick the eldest three Stark children used to plan things behind their parent's back. Ned rarely did it, but Brandon and Lyanna did so frequently. This way, they could get the warning to the Lord and pass it off as the kids missing him and wishing him good luck in their journey. The two Stark's contemplated it for a few moments before nodding, motioning to Ser Rodrik to follow so he could show them how to do it. Leaving Jon with a sleeping Bran, and Maester Luwin. He'd been meaning to speak to the Maester for some time now, ever since he'd realised the eggs were going to hatch and weren't dormant like everyone thought. The older man quirked an eyebrow up but simply nodded and gestured him to follow him into his solar. Jon was looking around in shock, never having been in here before. There were hundreds of books in here, like a miniature library of itself despite there being one already in Winterfell. 

"What are you enquiring about, young Snow?"

He gave the boy a soft smile which immediately calmed him down. He looked around him to take in everything before eyeing the many chains the Maester had. He had dozens of links, but it was one which snapped his attention. One of Valyrian steel, meaning he had studied magic to some extent.

"What do you know of dragons? I've always been interested in them but there's hardly any books on them and I'm not sure if they're wholly accurate."

He let out an odd noise at this, clearly not expecting such a question. But it was one he was pleased to answer for him.

"As you'll know, dragons went extinct around one hundred and fifty years ago, only a few years after the dreaded Targaryen civil war. In official documents, dragons never stop growing so long as they are not in captivity and are fed regularly. Hence how Balerion was so huge, he was said to be over two hundred feet in length when he died. They also live long lives, much longer than their riders. They only ever accepted one rider which they bonded with, and they would not let anyone else ride them until the rider had died. They were notoriously difficult to gain control of, but once control was gained, they were incredibly loyal creatures."

Jon took a mental note of everything he was telling him. He needed to know as much information as possible. He's got a feeling they will be hatching rather soon, and he could feel the bond with Rhaegon already beginning to form. A feeling akin to what he had with Ghost. Something he shared with all his siblings which they had found out a few weeks after they had gotten the pups. 

"If what is written is true, their main colour is the predominant colour of their egg, any other colours are either the wing membrane or the wings themselves. Apparently Rhaena had one which was a pale gold with baby pink wings, said to be one of the most beautiful ones to fly the skies by smallfolk and high lords alike. Incredibly fast as well, much faster than a horse. All had different personalities too. Balerion had a temper that was notorious to everyone, the brother Vhagar not far behind in that realm but not as bad. They were also genderless- neither male nor female. Any dragon could lay eggs in their nest, but how eggs were hatched have differing answers. But they're all gone now, the eggs nothing but extremely rare artefacts. One dragon egg could buy you an army of eight thousand at the least now."

That was all he needed to know. He'd already formed a bond with Rhaegon even though he hadn't hatched yet, which meant it would be easier to gain control of him when he did. Lyrax though, he wasn't sure about her. He didn't feel the same bond with Lyrax as he did with Rhaegon but hopefully this will happen over time. It wouldn't be a good idea to have a temperamental dragon on the loose- especially in the North. 

"Maester, I wanted to send my uncle at Castle Black a letter. He asked for an update on the King's visit and I know my father didn't send this. I don't believe Lady Catelyn is in the correct mindset to do so, nor is Robb."

Luwin smiled softly at him before taking the letter from Jon, promising to send it later in the day. He probably thought he was referring to Benjen, but it was for Aemon. The writing on it confirming the visit had gone somewhat well and he hadn't been recognised. If he were recognised, he would've been dead already, Jon knew that much. Robert bent over backwards sending sellswords after his aunt and uncle who were last seen wandering the free cities of Essos, he wouldn't do the same if in the same building as another Targaryen heir. He wouldn't care about what it would look like, he would just do it and walk away triumphant. He made his way towards his own room after this. Robb would probably be dealing with Lord duties now, leaving them with little time to spend with one another.

It was a change to say the least. Ever since Eddard had brought him into his home as his own, the pair had been attached at the hip. They did everything together, but now they wouldn't be, all because of a secret that if it got into the wrong hands, would change everything. It was unlikely he would stick to the plan he'd made with Robb when he does decide to go for it, but it was a start. This over time will transition to a foundation before eventually to a takeover. No, Jon doesn't want the Iron Throne, but he most certainly doesn't want the families tied to it currently on it after what they had done to his family. There were too many families to consider for when it comes to it, but the ones that meant the most to him with the North and Dorne. 

In the North alone there was Houses Locke, Mormont, Karstark, Stark, Reed, Umber, Bolton, Manderly, Glover, Cerwyn, Dustin, Ryswell, Flint, and many others. He knew he could count on House Reed considering the Lord knew the truth. Karstark was a possibility considering they were distant cousins of the Stark's. Stark's were a definite considering he had been raised as one and he was known and liked by most people in Winterfell. Flint was also a definite considering his great-grandmother had been one- Arya being named after her. Most were a toss of the coin on whether they would support or not. All except Ryswell and Dustin. It was well known than Barbary Dustin took great insult when Rickard Stark refused to betroth her to Brandon, and her father was a Ryswell and was known to be proud. 

Dorne was much the same. No, they didn't have as many Houses considering they were a smaller Kingdom to the North. Alongside their climate being too much for most to handle. The Martell's were a strong contender if the cards are played right, and as they are Lord Paramount's, if they bend the others will likely too. The Dayne's he could probably trust considering Arthur had died protecting him and they were known to be a tight-knit family. If someone died protecting a baby, the others would follow suit as well. Yronwood was a possibility too, but not something that could be guaranteed. Jon shook his head before picking up the eggs again, the heat not bothering him in the slightest. To him, it felt soothing. Whereas to others, it would leave them with burn marks. It was then that he felt a pull towards Lyrax, but it was nowhere near as strong. It was enough to put fears to rest, if even a small bond was forming then it was a good start to gaining control of them.

Robb I

The next three weeks went by in a massive blur. They were either sparring, watching Bran, or helping around the castle. Maester Luwin confirmed the boy's legs should be healed within the next fortnight considering he was laying perfectly still in bed, but there was no news on his back yet. All hoped it wasn't serious, but deep down they all knew. All they could do was support him to the best of their abilities even though it would crush the young boy that he could not longer be a Knight and therefore not get inducted to the Kingsguard. 

Robb was over his head with everything. Yes, his father had been teaching him slowly the ways of being a Lord, but it was nothing compared to doing it. He was awake every morning at dawn and straight to meetings, then he would visit Bran, more meetings, take his lessons, more meetings, spar with Jon for a little, even more meetings. In amongst all this he had numerous letters to respond to, had to account every coin in the treasury, make sure food stocks were plentiful, and so much more. However, he was doing decently with the change it brought, also bringing on respect by castle workers that someone so young stepped into his father's footsteps so easily. 

Many lords do so, but it's usually only when the current Lord dies, and Eddard Stark was alive. He was just asked by Robert Baratheon to be his Hand and his eldest daughter was betrothed to the Prince. He wanted to see the two together, and Arya had always wanted to travel so she made sense. But he could've left all the work to his mother considering he was the acting Lord and not officially the Lord. Today was one of those rare days where he only had two meetings, giving him plenty of time to himself. He sparred with Jon in the courtyard for a good hour, being beaten every time. His cousin's skill was something else, he treated the blade like it was a part of his arm rather than an inanimate object. He feared whoever faced Dark Sister's sharp edge in the future. That sword itself would put the fear of the dragon in anyone, everyone knew it was Visenya's sword and it was one of two ancestral blades of House Targaryen. Blackfyre had been lost gods know how many years ago, but perhaps it was still out there somewhere and not lost forever like its sister. 

After this, he made his way to his own solar so he could bathe and get rid of all the sweat on him. How Jon never broke out in one was a mystery, perhaps it was something to do with his Targaryen blood. He's seen the things he can do, the being immune to fire was the most impressive. Apparently to him it felt warm but not scorching which was incomprehensible to the older cousin. Then he made his way to his little brother's room, passing Jon on his way to his own solar. Like always, Bran was asleep and his mother was beside his bed sewing something. It was a hobby that calmed her and she'd taken to sewing the faces of the seven and placing them on his bed. Bran worshipped both the old gods and new, but the old gods didn't have faces so she couldn't do so with them. 

"Finished in your meetings for the day?"

He nodded at this.

"Second time since they left where I've had some time to myself, although I still can't beat Jon with a sword."

Catelyn snorted at this and went back to her sewing. Before she knew, she had openly scoffed when he couldn't beat his cousin who at the time he thought to be his bastard brother. Now though? She openly complimented the pair and had asked Jon to teach him some of his tricks. All knew she was doing this because when the truth does come out they will need to fight, and his mother knew he would be right beside her nephew the whole way through it unless something horrible happened. The comfortable silence was broken as the wolves all began howling, and not their normal howls. No, these ones were full of anguish and pain. Robb frowned before making his way to the window to look down to where the wolves were kept but he got his answer quickly. In the library tower there was a dim orange glow- fire.

"Mother stay here. There's a fire."

Her eyes widened massively but she wasn't quick enough to stop her son from running out the room towards that part of the castle. It was on the opposite end and he felt dread sink into his bones. Jon's room was near there. Yes, his cousin was fire resistant, but he didn't want all his belongings to be burnt to rubble when they were so valuable. Workers were panicking as they realised what was going on, some following with smothering blankets and numerous buckets ready to go to the nearby well so they could try to stop the blaze. He found Jon outside his room clutching the eggs tightly to his chest. At first, he didn't see it, but then he noticed the vibrating.

"Jon- are, are they?"

"I think so, cousin."

Now, Robb's eyes widened to an unnatural width before looking both sides down the corridor. No one had come back yet which gave him time to get there.

"Go, now! Don't let anyone see you go into the fire."

Jaeron VIII

Jon nodded before running alongside his cousin, but Robb couldn't get too close as the heat to him was unbearable. He placed a hand on Jon's shoulder to offer him support and with a short smile, his cousin ran straight into the tower that left up to the library. Every bone in his body was telling him to go after him, seeing him be engulfed by flames and then disappearing up the stairs to the room it was going on. Why had a fire broken out here of all places? There was no time to ponder as soon people came barrelling down the corridors from both sides, setting to work in getting the blaze under control before it swept through the castle. The closer they were getting to the flames the more uncomfortable he was getting, but they had to at the very least get it under control to stop the spread. All he could do was hope that Jon was going to be okay. 

A part of Jon screamed at him for doing something as reckless as running into an open flame, but the moment he felt them lick at his body, this disappeared. Yes, he knew he could resist fire, but he wasn't sure if it was only small quantities he could resist. He'd been in his room reading a book he had gotten from the library a few days prior when he first smelt the smoke. At first, he thought it was a fire outside, but soon he noticed dark clouds of smoke outside which confirmed it was indeed a fire. His first instinct had been to run, but there was a voice at the back of his head telling him to go into the flames with the eggs. He tried to resist it at first, but it became obvious this wasn't happening as it throbbed in his head like a migraine. He had been shocked massively when he felt the frantic movement inside the eggs, confirming it was time for them to hatch. 

With that said, he grabbed the small knife he had used to cut his palm with the first time and ran towards it. Now, looking around him and seeing the destruction that was happening was something else entirely. It was almost beautiful to look at. He shook his head, knowing he had to push himself further. He had to as when people get closer to stopping the flames, the more open he is. Jon powered his way up the stairs to the library itself and immediately ran into the back corner which was as far back as he could go. When they do get closer to drowning out the flames, he'll just need to find a way to get somewhere he can hide. Jon pulled the blade out now and placed the eggs on the ground, ignoring the way his clothes were melting away on him and turning to ash on the ground before carefully cutting a thin line on his palm. Like the couple of times he's done this previously, his palm quickly filled with blood and he let it drip all over the eggs. The sight of this trying to block out the burning body of the librarian he had passed. She was a lovely woman and had always been kind to him, but he couldn't let himself get distracted.

"Hen exhōnnegon kāvētēs. Hen dōron kāvētēs. Hen pēskō kāvētēs. Se aōh sombītsossas pryjātās. Aōha tīkussaa hakomiōtsōs we zaldrīzoti irughātās. Perzys ānogar." (Wake from extinction. Wake from stone. Wake from the past. Break from your shell. Spread your wings and let the dragon out. Fire and blood.)

The language felt alien on his tongue. He'd been working hard at it ever since he found out the truth, and he was already leagues ahead of Robb in it. He hoped to be fluent by the time the year comes to an end which will be in a few months. After he had said the words, the movement in the eggs became more frantic than before. A few moments passed, the whole time he was holding his breath, and then the first crack appeared. A large smile made its way onto his face as he watched more cracked appear and soon the eggs were nothing but shards on the ground. Then he felt it, a scaly head pressing into his palm. By now, his clothes had completely burned away into nothing and the tiny creatures began climbing on him. The two of them screeching and clicking constantly as they did so. He made a hush gesture then blushed at realising there was no way they would understand. 

"Lykemātās." (Quiet.)

They seemed to understand this and kept quiet like he commanded. Jon tried to ignore the digging of their claws against his bare skin. They were surprisingly small, not much larger than a kitten, but if what Maester Luwin said was correct they could grow exponentially. Now that he was looking at them, he took in their colouring. Lyrax was a deep sapphire blue in colour, a little brighter than her egg had been. Her nose was dappled with steel grey and underneath her wings was the same colour. Gently, he petted her head and she let out a small trill in appreciation, clearly enjoying the touch. Her eyes were of a brighter blue and pierced brighter than her jewel coloured scales.

Then his eyes trailed to Rhaegon. Like his egg, his scales were an incredibly bright silver and made him stand out more than his sibling in the still burning flames. His wings were jet black, their underside a blood red. Then there were his eyes, and Jon's own widened massively. At first glance they looked black, but when he looked closer he noticed they were in fact an extremely dark purple. Hadn't his father had deep purple eyes? That's what his aunt and uncle had told him. That was when it hit him- both resembled his parents. His fathers silver hair, his house colours, his eyes. His mothers favourite flower being sapphire blue in colour and her eyes steel grey that was common in Stark's. It brought a few tears to his eye as he spoke their names aloud, both spreading their wings before climbing up onto his shoulders. 

Robb II

It took almost an hour for them to contain the flames. They had decided to not go further into the tower as they were unsure if it was stable or not, but they didn't want to risk it. All they could do, was wait for the fire to burn out. Robb sat down cross-legged for some time, Grey Wind and Ghost standing beside him. He had been expecting for Ghost to be howling, but as always, he was silent. This was a good sign, it meant that his cousin was okay. 

"My Lord, you'd better come quickly. An assassin went into your brother's room and tried to attack him."

Robb's face went pale as he eyed the burning tower his cousin was in for a split second before running to his brother's room. The sight he was met with was gruesome to say the least. All knew that the direwolves were dangerous animals, but they were always so sweet around them. Well, apart from Shaggydog but Rickon was wild too. Therefore, it made sense the wild boy had a borderline wild wolf. Catelyn was on the ground with Maester Luwin beside her, her hands were covered in blood and from where he was he saw the deep gashes in her hands. The assassin was on the ground but there was a gaping hole where his throat had been which was still pulsing blood from it meekly. Forcing down his food, he made his way towards her.

"It was a diversion. He lit the fire expecting me to go with you Robb to put out the fire. He was shocked to see me still here and he came at me with the blade, I managed to fight him off but to do so I had to grab the blade with my hands. But he didn't get to Bran, Summer made sure of that after I managed to push him off me."

He knelt on the ground to take in the damage of her hands, wincing as he could imagine the pain she was currently in. Luwin had a roll of bandages and a few liquids which he assumed would be to clean the winds before he wrapped them up. Once he had done so, he left the room to find someone to take care of the body.

"We managed to get the fire under control, but they're scared to go deeper in case it damaged any of the stones of the castle. But mother, it's Jon. The eggs, they're hatching, they might've already hatched. He ran into the tower- "

"He did what?! And you didn't stop him?!"

He held a hand up to silence her but it was clear she was furious at him for doing so.

"Mother, I don't know if he's told you this, but he's resistant to fire. I've seen it a couple of times, Arya once. To him it's just like warm water running over your body. And Ghost isn't making a single sound, so he's fine."

Catelyn closed her eyes and breathed deeply a few times, trying to figure out what this meant. An assassin came after Bran, meaning someone intended to silence him again after failing the first time. She made a vow to herself then, she was going to find out who did this to her son and she would put him through the seven hells herself. They would be getting no mercy from the mother over what she was going to do to whoever it was. 

Steadily, he helped her stand up and they made their way to the tower. From looking out the window it became clear the flames were going down. Soon, they would burn out. Grey Wind was on Robb's heels as they made their way back, showing he was equally as protective over his human as Summer was. Both sat down on a bench that lined the wall a few metres from the entrance to the tower. They must've been waiting for hours, only the occasional servant passing them in that time. It was already late into the day when he noticed the fire, so it must be nearing dawn now. Then he noticed a shadow, grasping his mother's arm in apprehension. Then Jon stepped out, completely naked, his hair burned mostly off, his body covered in ash. Catelyn blushed deeply before Robb removed his cloak to drape over his cousin. He stopped just before he did so as he spotted wings appear atop his shoulders. They had hatched. Jon had successfully hatched dragon eggs, the first person to do so in over a century. Steadily, he walked over and held out a hand towards the blue one. At first, it snapped at him but with a stern look from Jon, it stopped and let him touch the scales. They were warm under his touch, rough under his fingertips.

"Her name is Lyrax, and this one is named Rhaegon. After my parents."

The way his cousin's voice cracked at the last word wasn't missed by either of them, but Robb knew he had to get Jon into his own room before anyone saw the dragons. It didn't matter that he was completely naked. He eyed his mother whose jaw was practically on the floor, forgetting all courtesies and decorum at what she was witnessing. She checked the corner that Jon's room was on for anyone and when she nodded, Robb knew it was safe. Once Jon was in his room, they locked the door promptly.

"Perzys ānogar."

Catelyn looked to her son oddly at this, her having never learned High Valyrian, but from the small snort Jon gave confirmed he knew what he had said. 

"Issa, hen Valyrio Uēpo ānogār nyke iksan. Nyke Rhaegar Targarīen trēsy, se yne lentor anogudlīlza kesos. Yne muñar, iāpa Brāndon, yne ñāmar se kepa osjitre, yne lēkia se mandia. Anogri anogar nymisi."(Yes, I am of the blood of Valyria, I am the son of Rhaegar Targaryen. I will avenge my family. My father, my mother, uncle Brandon, grandfather Rickard, my aunt and uncle in exile, my brother, and my sister. And I will do so with fire and blood.)


	9. VIII

Robb III

There were no words that would sum up everything that had happened. But there was one thing that was certain. The world as they all knew it, was going to go up in ashes at some point. It was a known fact not to anger either a Targaryen or a Stark, so who knows what the result would be to anger a mixture of both. Dragons are known for their destruction but also for their greatness, wolves are known for a quiet nature but a vicious temper. Yet here was Jon sitting on his bed with his white direwolf curled at the bottom of the furniture whilst two dragons were perched on his shoulders. Deep down, ever since his father had told him the truth, Robb had a shred of hope that it wasn't true. He desperately wanted to go back to when the pack was all together and Jon was still his brother. Or was it Jaeron? 

That was his birth name, the documents proving this. It was a name he had not heard before but it did sound Valyrian. Everyone would've expected that if Rhaegar ever did have another child he would name it Visenya considering he had named his other children after the original three monarchs. But Jaeron wasn't a girl, but surely he would've named him with a name beginning with V? Perhaps he hadn't been named by Rhaegar and had been named solely by Lyanna. This was something he would never get an answer to as it wasn't in the letter that his cousin had let him read after he had unless his aunt had disclosed this information to Ned. Catelyn was still sheet white as she eyed the tiny creatures perched on her nephew's shoulders, something Robb was sure he also was but the younger wasn't saying anything regarding it. He himself looked terrified of what had happened. 

"You really are a dragonwolf aren't you cousin?"

Even now, weeks later, calling him cousin didn't sit right with him. He looked up and stared at him, but the second Robb's eyes landed on his, he jumped back in shock. Before, his eyes had been steel grey and only in some lighting they appeared lilac. Yet now, they were straight up purple. There would be no hiding it now. 

"Robb?"

He asked him curiously what it was that took him by surprise, fully expecting it to be one of the dragons.

"Jon, your eyes! They're purple!"

His own eyes widened as he carefully took the dragons off his shoulders who both immediately began whining at this, clearly wanting to be with him. He walked over to a mirror and took in his appearance. He could only gulp when he realised his cousin was telling the truth. There was still a thin ring of lilac there, but instead of the steel grey they typically were apart from this they were now a bright purple. 

"We need to send a letter to Ned, now."

Both boys nodded at Catelyn's words as she stood up and left the room. The dragons began flapping their wings but due to how young they were, they were unable to fly just yet. They wouldn't be able to for a few weeks, and it would be years before they would be large enough to cause damage. Robb doubted he would ever use them to cause damage unless he had no choice but to do so, and even then he would look for ways out of it. For him, it would be an absolute last resort. The older carefully sat down on the bed where Jon joined him soon after, the silver one immediately clambering back to him. The blue one- Lyrax- was a bit more curious and her gaze met Robb's. Hesitantly, he held his hand out in case she came over to him. She chirped a few times before hissing in fear, but she did go over to him to sniff him. Her scales were warm, but not to a painful amount. The scales were hard to the touch, but now that he was looking at her closely, noticed she wasn't wholly the one colour. There were flecks of grey in there as well, but it was very minimal. 

"I can't stay here, can I?"

The words came out of the youngers mouth almost broken, clearly terrified of the implications this was going to cause. Initially, the older opened his mouth to assure him he could stay here, but then he thought on it. It would be almost impossible to hide two dragons in Winterfell. Yes, the castle was large and the crypts weaving a massive maze underneath. That would be the best place to keep them, but there's no saying just how large they will grow. Then there was the change in eye colour. A feature that was strictly to those with Valyrian ancestry apart from only a few families. All but one being known. They could've gone by the bastard story Catelyn came up with, but that would not explain the fact they were grey beforehand never mind the small creatures.

"I'll need to go even further into hiding- "

"Jon, Jaeron, whatever the hell your name is. No matter what happens you will always be welcome in Winterfell, and we will do all we can to keep you protected. King Robert will not get his hands on you, neither will the Lannister's. You might be my cousin by blood but you are my brother, nothing is going to change that fact. And when the time comes where you do press on your claim, you can count on us. I will declare for you, and I'm sure father will too."

Jon looked down to his lap to eye the silver dragon he had named after his father. He was chirping in a much sharper tone than his sibling, indicating he was angry at the lack of attention. He stroked his scales and tickled him under the neck for a moment.

"Robb, that means a lot to me, but we don't know what the state of the realm will be when the time comes. I want to wait until these two are at least old enough to inflict fear and awe, which might be years. Well, unless if what Maester Luwin said was correct. He says that if dragons are not kept in captivity and are fed regularly they will grow rapidly and will never stop doing so. That's why Balerion was so large, he had lived to be over two centuries old. Don't declare for me or promise to do so Robb. For all we know we could be allied with the Lannister's at that point if the betrothal goes ahead with Sansa. Yes, we both believe it won't and she will come to her senses, but it's only a feeling. If it goes ahead, we will be tied to the Baratheon's and the Lannister's."

He tightened his lips as he thought his words over. What he said made sense. Yes, they were jokingly planning this morning, but both knew this would not come to fruition unless a miracle of some kind happens. Catelyn soon appeared, but much to the boy's shock, she had Maester Luwin with her.

"He's sworn to the castle, not to Lords, Ladies, Kings, or Queens. We can trust him."

The older man frowned at her words before closing the door behind him. He got his answer soon enough as he eyes what the boys had on their laps. His eyes widened as he promptly dropped to his knees to take them in. No one alive has seen a dragon that is on record, he may be the first person in Westeros to see them in over a century. Both tilted their heads as they eyed him up and down, before running over to him. Luwin wasted no time at all in examining them, the questions Jon had asked him now making sense a few weeks ago. The boy had dragon eggs, and they had hatched. From the ash still on Jon, he knew it was very recently they did so, only in the last few hours.

"How did you hatch them? Only those of the blood of Valyria have successfully done so."

Jon bit his lip before realising his aunt was correct. If they could trust anyone outside of them that was in the castle, it was the Maester.

"Maester, we've not been wholly truthful to you I'm afraid. Jon here, he is not my husband's bastard, he isn't even a bastard. He is the trueborn son of the Lady Lyanna and Prince Rhaegar, they named him Jaeron."

Now this was news. Now that he was looking at the boy intently, he spotted the traits that were common with those who had Valyrian ancestry. Sharp cheekbones that were high on his face, an incredibly thin nose, sharp jawline, and bright purple eyes. He'd never noticed he had purple eyes before, and now he was silently kicking himself at never seeing it beforehand. 

"What my aunt says is true, Maester. My father didn't kidnap my mother, she went with him willingly and they were wed on the Isle of Faces in the Riverland's. My father was dead long before I was born, but my mother died in her birthing bed not long after my uncle got there. She made him promise to keep me safe as she had heard what happened to my siblings on Tywin Lannister's orders. He was aware that my mother wanted to break off the betrothal, she left me numerous letters confirming everything, and Princess Elia approved of the match. Everything was worked out- "

"But King Robert took her rejection as insult and refuse to believe her."

Everyone in the room nodded at this. He let out a long steady breath as this all sunk in. This was going to change history as they knew it. Most people assumed there was something big going on behind the scenes, himself being aware too but due to his chains and vows, he could not do anything about it. When he was studying in the Citadel, he had lost count that magic was barbaric and the only true knowledge there was, was in fact, in the span of a couple of days. Most Maester's hated the idea of magic, as it weakened their position. He'd saw the scrolls that were supposed to be hidden when he was curious, of how there may have been more to the dragons dying out than first thought. He remembered being openly shunned when he announced he wanted to go for a Valyrian steel link- the one that signified study in magic. It was only him and one other acolyte who had shown interest in it, the other leaving a couple of months in. The dragons were now right in front of him and he examined them closely, a small part of him being a giddy toddler at seeing such magnificent creatures up close. They were small, not much larger than a ten-week-old kitten, but he knew they would grow exponentially. 

"I won't be able to stay in Winterfell; this cannot get out right now. If it did, it will completely tear the realm apart and end in its worst state yet. I have two uncles at the wall, I'm thinking of going there. No one can talk due to their vows- "

"You are not going to the wall, Jon. If you go, you'll be singled out as you cannot take vows. And people come and go frequently with recruits who aren't sworn in. One of them could see you, see your features, see the dragons, and they could talk. No, we need to send you somewhere very few people have access to, somewhere that is notorious due to its people's isolationist tendencies."

He frowned at his aunt's words, the truth of them ringing in his ears. He wanted to see Aemon and to show him the eggs he had gifted him had hatched, he wanted him to feel dragon scales under his touch. He was a Targaryen after all, he deserved to witness this. It's a shame he'll never be able to set his eyes upon them though. But where would he go? What did she mean by her words? The other two were looking to her curiously, and she simply gulped.

"Jon, there's one person who knows outside of this we know for certain as he was there when Ned found you. The Neck is a swampland, most people ignore it or openly avoid it as they have no idea how to navigate it. He's the Lord of Greywater Watch, a castle built on an island that floats and is therefore almost impossible to impregnate. Due to the numerous forests surrounding the area, you could keep the dragons out in the open so they would grow quicker. We could put it as he requested to foster you."

Silence overcame them again at this. What she was saying made an awful lot of sense. He would be hidden, crannogmen were notorious for remaining to themselves, not taking part in the politics of Westeros unless they had no choice in the matter, an area that was almost impossible to navigate. And Howland Reed knew the truth, meaning he would be able to help him out. Plus, he would only be around ten days ride away from Winterfell, he could visit, and they could visit in return. 

"Send the raven to him with the request tonight, Maester. In the meantime, are there any meat scraps around so these two can eat?"

Luwin simply nodded before leaving the room. It was now that Catelyn got over her fear of the dragons as she eased one of her bandaged hands towards Lyrax. She made a huffing noise and a cloud of smoke came from her nostrils, but it was more in offence she had waited this long. She was still on Robb's lap and he was still looking at them in total awe. Jon carefully removed Rhaegon from his own lap and walked over to where there was a rag so he could clean the soot off him before pulling on some clothes. He would need to take a long bath later as he did smell like a bonfire. He noticed a small smile on his aunt's face as she tickled the tiny dragon under her chin, and from the borderline purring noise emanating from her, she was enjoying the touch. 

The Maester came back again not long after, carrying a small box of meat scraps he must've gotten from the kitchens, and a scroll of parchment. They would need to word this very carefully so that it didn't get out. There was no way they could use the ink trick Ser Rodrik had told them of yet as Ned had not been made aware they were going to do so, and they could not tip off what they were doing behind the realms back. 

"Perhaps it would be best to get a response from Lord Reed first, my Lady- "

"Nay, Maester. We cannot do that. It takes approximately ten days to travel to the heart of The Neck from Winterfell, that is ten days too long to keep this quiet for. I'm not risking my brother's life like that, or that of my families. Even a raven will take a good four days to arrive there, and it will be the same time back."

Robb's words broke the silence and he bit his lip hard at what he was insinuating. Understanding just how dangerous this was, and how much damage it would cause if the truth did get out. If it gets out that Jon is a legitimate Targaryen, Eddard Stark will be labelled a traitor of the worst kind. Meaning he will be imprisoned and those sworn to him will take up banners, causing a war. His children would be taken and be tortured for information on what they knew about everything. Catelyn would get much the same treatment, meaning the Riverlands would take up their banners. And Jon, the poor boy would face a worse fate than his father had. Robert would want to do every nasty thing he could think of to him to show that Targaryen's were scum before killing the boy. 

"So, how are we going to word this, then? He needs to know they hatched and where I plan on going."

"Dragons when they are born are called whelps, are they not?"

Luwin nodded lightly to Robb. He gave Jon a look and despite no words being spoken between them, it was obvious the youngest knew what he was suggesting. It was only now that he noticed the boy's black curls had been singed in the fire. He was holding out pieces of meat for the dragons to eat but they didn't seem to want it. He stood up and walked over to the fire, placing a few pieces in the flames for a few seconds before picking them back up again. This small act caused Luwin's and Catelyn's eyebrows to raise. They had only found out today the boy was resistant to fire, but seeing it was something else entirely. Now, Rhaegon and Lyrax gave happy chirps before fighting over the meat. 

"Aunt Catelyn, you used to call me that before you knew the truth. We're still playing on the bastard story in the open, so if I'm named that in the message, he will question it and look into it further."

Luwin eyed him with surprise at this, wondering how he had thought up an answer so quickly. He was correct though. They all knew that Catelyn no longer despised him and was beginning to treat him like family- which he was, just not by a direct blood link. Ned would question why he was called that in the message, he would put the pieces together. They'd been gone for three weeks now, meaning they would be close to the Crownlands border by now- permitting weather was good. Now, Luwin remembered he had received a raven from Lord Stark which he handed over to the Lady. His trusted bird had left it in his solar when he went to collect some parchment. She read it quietly before her eyes hardened. Then she sighed, before handing it over to Jon. He frowned at this before beginning to read himself, Robb's head leaning over so he could read it too.

What it contained, both brought him joy and anger. His aunt and uncle in Essos were alive, Daenerys had been sold to a Dothraki Khal not far from Pentos, and Viserys had gone with her. Why had she been sold to the Dothraki though? They were savages, roaming around for months on end in the great grass sea which spanned much of the neighbouring continent. Thieving, raping, murdering, the whole lot. If she was sold, it's likely she did not consent to it, meaning she was being used to further someone else's agenda. This meant one thing, his uncle planned on pressing a claim, and he was trying to hire the Dothraki to join in. A stupid move by anyone's standards, but their name did seem to be cursed. But what really made him angry, was the last part of the letter.

Robert said to me he will kill any Targaryen he gets his hands on, and when I challenged him on it, he was furious. He plans to send assassins their way, apparently the disgraced Knight Jorah Mormont is keeping tabs on the Princess in exchange for a pardon.

The rest of the message blended. Everything from a fight between Arya and Sansa (which wasn't anything new). To Prince Joffrey being bitten by Nymeria protecting Arya and Sansa siding with him. To the King and Queen trialling Arya without telling Ned, and subsequently ordering that the direwolf be killed. His uncle had done the deed himself, and apparently Sansa could not look him in the eye after he had done so as Nymeria had been smart enough to run away, meaning Lady was the one who met her untimely end. That part angered Robb greatly, how could Sansa side with someone threatening her sister?! What happened to the whole 'the pack sticks together' thing? But then again, if she openly stated that the Prince had done so, the Queen certainly would take great offence to it as would the Prince, she would be hurt. He just hoped that this was her reasoning for doing so. 

"Wasn't Ser Jorah stripped of his titles for selling slaves?" 

Maester Luwin nodded at this.

"Aye, my Lady. He ran as soon as Lord Stark passed the sentence and hasn't been seen in seven years. But at least we know young Jon has other family members out there and no assassins have succeeded yet."

"It would be too risky to send a message to them wouldn't it? To confirm everything?"

All nodded silently to confirm his suspicions. He could keep tabs on them, but they would have no idea he even existed, unless Rhaella knew and told Viserys and he had told Daenerys. 

"How old would they be?"

It was Catelyn who answered this question.

"Viserys was nearing his eighth name-day when they had to flee the Red Keep, so he will be nearing his twenty-fourth name-day soon, or possibly already has. Daenerys was born on Dragonstone many months later. If my estimations are correct, this means Queen Rhaella was early into her pregnancy with her when they had to leave. She wasn't born until long after Ned got back to the Red Keep with Lyanna's body and you, Jon. And this was a good couple of months after they fled. I'd say she's at the least six months younger than you, but probably more. She'll be fifteen."

Luwin nodded to confirm her suspicions. She was born late 284AC and would be nearing her sixteenth name-day soon. It allowed Jon to conjure what he assumed they looked like. Due to his grandparents being brother and sister, and them looking like stereotypical Valyrian's, this meant they would have the silver hair and purple eyes. Only one feature of which he shared with them other than the few he had gotten from his father- their brother. Neither of the letters he had from Elia, his mother, or his father confirmed that Rhaella knew he had been born. His father couldn't tell her as he was dead months before he was born, and Lyanna certainly couldn't have told her as she had already fled by that point and she had died birthing him. There was a high chance neither of them knew. And if his suspicions regarding his uncle are correct, he will be pressing a claim. Would he see him as a threat? 

"My Lady, there was a rumour circulating for a while in the Citadel when I was still there and the previous Maester was still serving here. Apparently there were witnesses that Rhaella named Viserys crowned Prince after they fled to Dragonstone. It was never validated by the Citadel, but if true, this means he has a higher peg than Jon doesn't it?"

"Not necessarily, Maester. If it wasn't validated, there is no proof and it is solely rumours. Jaeron however, has numerous documents to prove who he is, meaning he will be preferred by many Lords. Also, a sibling cannot inherit before a son, even if said sibling was crowned."

All this talk was beginning to take its toll on Jon, and he flinched noticeably when his aunt had called him by his given name. Prince Jaeron of House Targaryen, it sounded so alien to him. He was still coming to terms with everything. The one thing he knew for certain was that he was going to avenge those who had lost their lives on a false claim. No, he does not want to be a ruler or have any high titles. He simply wanted to be recognised as a Stark and make his family proud. But he would never be recognised as a Stark because he wasn't one, and he never would be. The dragons were now curled up on his lap sound asleep, all the meat devoured. He was tempted to pet them, but he didn't want to wake them. 

"I think we can all agree the other Targaryen's likely don't know about Jaeron, and they cannot step foot in Westeros without being butchered like their niece, nephew, and goodsister were. There's no telling what the past fifteen years of exile have caused on them. They may not be stable, meaning if worst comes to worst, Viserys will kill Jon for standing in his way and probably follow in his father's footsteps by taking his sister to wed."

The whole thought of brother and sister wedding one another disgusted them all deeply. Yes, a lot of Jon's ancestors had done just that to keep bloodlines pure. A practice that was carried out by many Valyrian families who were Dragonlords. But it was too close a relation now, one that resulted in deformities and madness. Then he spotted the flaw.

"But Daenerys has been sold to a Dothraki Khal called Drogo according to this message, meaning marriage. I highly doubt a Khal will take kindly to having to share their wife."

All hummed at this before Robb's eyes widened, understanding what was happening. Or more precisely, what was probably happening.

"The Dothraki follow strength. By wedding Daenerys to a Khal, they will follow her. She may not gain their favour, but they will still follow her. Don't they elect whoever kills the previous Khal the new Khal? Or at least, that's what the books say."

Jon felt his heart drop at this. Surely his uncle was not that stupid. It was dumb enough to marry into a Khalasar anyway, despite it having some political merit. Some political merit is not secure political merit though. He'd heard that Viserys was close to Aerys, and it was known his grandfather despised his family marrying outside family. If rumours were true, he had refused to acknowledge his older siblings because they were half-Dornish, even though it was he who had arranged the match between Elia and Rhaegar in the first place. If stories were true that he emulated and looked up to him, he would have the same thought of mind. But if he took out Khal Drogo, he would be named Khal due to tradition. Giving him an army and a strong reason to cross the narrow sea back to Westeros.

"This is all speculation currently, of course. Let us not get too far ahead of ourselves. I'm sure Ned will send correspondence back and forth because Jon did ask to be notified if he heard anything about Daenerys and Viserys. If he's as smart as I feel he is, he will remain semi-neutral so he can get further information on them. Right now, our biggest problem is that somehow, Jon's eyes have turned from lilac-grey to bright purple after hatching dragons."

With these words being said and numerous theories playing in their heads that neither dared speak about, they finally wrote the letter and handed it to Luwin. The Maester left the room quickly at this, but then Catelyn pursed her lips tightly. She reached into her furs and removed a large dagger, Robb recognising it as the one the cutthroat was going to use on Bran. Why had she grabbed it? They got their answer as she slid it out of the sheath, the dark metal and pale blue ripples confirming how valuable it was.

"Why would a cutthroat have a Valyrian steel dagger?"

She simply shrugged before handing it to Robb to examine. 

"Clearly someone very wealthy wanted him dead. From the man's clothes and the way that he spoke confirmed he was smallfolk. Even when Valyrian steel when it was still being produced could only be afforded by the elite. He was handed the knife in question, and this confirms our suspicions that someone wants to silence Bran."

"Meaning he did see something he wasn't supposed to- and he was probably pushed."

All felt bile rise in their throats. No matter what he saw, why would anyone try to kill a child? And when the attempt failed try again? 

"Doesn't Maester Luwin have a record of everyone who owns Valyrian steel weapons? Perhaps he could cross reference and find out who owned this one."

That was actually a good idea. Robb quirked an eyebrow towards Jon who was looking down to his new companions. Yes, Robb had felt them move back at Castle Black inside the eggs but seeing them hatched and alive was something else. Dragons had died out after the Dance of Dragons, almost one hundred and fifty years prior. Yet here were two, the first two in all that time. In Westeros at least. They're apparently still alive in the shadowlands beyond Asshai but hardly anyone goes that far east. The land in question was filled with sorcery, blood magic, ancient rituals, and who knows what else. Catelyn stood up and made her way towards the Maester's solar, taking care to hide the blade from prying eyes. 

"So, tell me how they hatched."

Jon snorted loudly at the way he had said those words.

"Should you not have Lordly duties to attend, Lord Stark?"

"You've got some cheek, Prince Jaeron."

With a small laugh, Jon grabbed one of his pillows and whacked Robb across the face with it. They could rarely joke with one another since he had been so busy the last few weeks. Ghost stood up and jumped onto the bed, disturbing Rhaegon from his sleep and receiving a cloud of smoke in response. The direwolf tilted his head to the side examining them before nuzzling them carefully, the silver and black dragon doing the same. A couple of barks, howls, chirps, and roars occurred before they settled, clearly deciding to be friends. 

"When I first saw the fire, I just felt this overwhelming need to pick up the eggs and take them into the heart of it. I grabbed them and they began shaking violently which you saw, clearly desperate to come out of their shell after who knows how many years. I was nervous because I've never fully gone into a flame, but to me it just felt warm. Not even hot. I ran up the stairs and made my way to the back corner in case someone managed to fight the blaze and see, by laying low I would have a chance of getting out unnoticed. The librarian was already gone by the time I got there, who knows how long the fire was going on for before it was noticed. I cut into my palm to get some blood and dripped it over the eggs, and they cracked open."

He knew it would be something along those lines. He had been disturbed when he had saw the cut marks on Jon's palm the first time, at one point thinking he was bordering insanity. Not that it stopped him though, they didn't seem to cause him any pain. If they did, he did a good job of hiding it considering it was his dominant hand he got the blood from. It would be obvious if it did cause him discomfort in sparring sessions or lessons. Robb had seen him slowly get more comfortable with his left hand in preparation to learn to fight with dual swords- a style that was rare. One sword was deadly enough, two would be vicious. Especially when he finally does go for it and people see the sword he has. A part of the older was incredibly jealous of the younger, but he'd had a stern talking to from his mother who had noticed it not long after they had been told.

At the time, Catelyn was still coming to terms with everything herself. But this did not deter her from being a loving mother to her own kids or being a supportive wife to Eddard. She had been walking the halls of Winterfell when she'd heard her eldest whispering furiously under his breath about it all. She had simply pinched her nose to rid herself of the thoughts that threatened to spill over before confronting him. By the end of it all, he was ashamed on another level. He was jealous that Jon was technically a hidden King, but to be so his entire family was practically butchered. He was given a legendary sword that was supposed to have gone to his older brother whose head was caved in by Gregor Clegane. He had a feared name, then he was reminded the name was feared due to the madness trait that was very prominent in a lot of the Targaryen line.

Robb had no right to be jealous over his cousin in the slightest, a fact he's come to accept now. He had everything the boy wanted pretty much. A father, a mother, siblings who were alive, a name that wasn't tainted with a trait of insanity, a life that was open and not hidden. It sickened him that it took Catelyn to knock sense into him, especially because she was still getting used to everything. He'd still not told him he went through this short phase, and he didn't plan on doing so either. There was absolutely no need to open a wound between them. And he would need to leave Winterfell after what had happened. Why had his eyes changed colour? Was this some of the blood of old Valyria running through his veins or was it something else entirely?

Being blood of the First Men himself, the idea of magic and supernatural activity wasn't alien to him. After all, they had literal direwolves as pets. Beasts which were thought extinct south of the Wall for hundreds of years. Some people had abilities to see through an animal's eyes, although this was rare. He'd only ever seen it done once, and he couldn't even remember who it was as he was a young boy at the time.

"How big do you think they'll get?"

Jon simply shrugged at this.

"Apparently they never stop growing so long as they are not in captivity. Easily over a hundred feet, potentially even the size Balerion was."

Robb's eyes widened at this. There was no one alive who had set eyes on the black dread that belonged to Aegon the Conqueror. But there were sketches of scale comparisons in books. If they were accurate, the dragon in question easily would've wrapped around half of Winterfell. 

"Do you think you'll ever be a rider? If so, how large do you think they'll need to be for you to do so?"

The younger nodded immediately at the question. Somehow, he knew he would ride Rhaegon. He was already forming a bond with him.

"I've no idea of age, I'd imagine once large enough so that Rhaegon's neck is roughly the width of a horses back. My ancestors rode that way by linking their legs behind the wing membrane, making it difficult to lose balance unless something happened. I don't think I'll ever ride Lyrax- the bond isn't as strong with her as it is his. Maybe a couple of years?"

Jon was kicking himself now at not asking Luwin that question when he quizzed him three weeks ago. He would need to find an answer to that. There was nothing about it in Winterfell's library, he'd already torn the place apart going through books that revolved solely around dragons and their riders. It was now that Grey Wind made an appearance and going towards his brother and Robb, the older chuckling before tickling him behind the ear. 

"I can't wait to see the day the truth comes out so I can see everyone's faces."

Jon snorted a little before a sad feeling enveloped him- if he was still alive then. Being a Lord was a dangerous job enough as is but being a Lord Paramount and being sixteen name-days made Robb's position perilous at best. He wasn't as versed in politics as his mother was, and he spent far more time with Theon Greyjoy than attending lessons. 

"Robb, please be careful. I'm going to tell you the same thing as I told uncle; don't do anything stupid. It's going to send selfish as hell on my part, but I don't want to lose another family member. Heck, my distant cousin murdered my father and said distant cousin is still trying to assassinate my aunt and uncle. I just hope that uncle can tame his impulses, but with the Lannister's surrounding them, who knows what will occur. By blood, you're my cousin Robb. But you're more to me than that. We were raised as brothers, and I still see you as my brother even though I call you cousin in private. I don't want you to face a similar fate to what my own siblings did. Gods, Aegon's head smashed against a wall and Rhaenys being stabbed half a hundred times until she was unrecognisable- "

He trailed off after this and the older momentarily stopped breathing at his words. Yes, the way he was wording it was selfish, but he knew he didn't mean it as such. Jon just wasn't a selfish person under any circumstance. All he was doing, was warning him to be careful. As much as Robb tries to deny it, he is the Lord of Winterfell and Lord Paramount of the North unless his father comes home. All hoped this would be soon, Robert Baratheon did not come across as someone who accepted compromises. It wouldn't be long for the two to but heads again. In fact, his fathers letter confirmed they already were over his plan to send more assassins after two innocents. Hesitantly, Robb placed a hand over Jon's and squeezed lightly.

"I'll be as careful as I can. You honestly don't think I'm going to be stupid enough to screw up when you've got two dragons?"

He said the last part in a joking manner which the younger immediately understood as he grabbed a pillow and whacked him across the face with it. They'll probably not get a moment like this for a long time, so they were going to make the most of it while they could.


	10. IX

Jaeron VIII

The next few days were strange, to put it lightly. Due to the size of the dragons, it was simple to keep them hidden from view. No one could know other than the family and Maester Luwin. All it takes is one servant to see them to gossip, then someone goes home for the day and gossips. Then before anyone can blink, everyone in the North will know. They barely made any noise apart from angry huffs when Jon wasn't feeding or petting them enough, very much acting like spoiled cats, but it wasn't loud. The young boy sighed deeply before sliding out the sword from underneath his bed to examine it. His head was in a state of turmoil ever since they had hatched. 

Yes, he knew the truth, but now that he had physical reminders of the truth, he had no choice but to face the facts. Jon had no idea how to be a Targaryen, no idea on how to be a Prince, was not versed in courtly politics. These were things he was going to need to work on and master if he was going to do it. Does he want that stupid chair his ancestor had built from the swords of other Kingdoms? No, he can categorically say that. However, there was no way he was going to be able to get justice for those who had lost their lives without claiming it. He'll either crumble under everything, or flourish from the dirt. Hopefully, it would be the second. There are four people left in his family, and one is elderly. He wanted to go to the wall for hiding, but this wasn't his main reason. His main reason was to see Aemon again and take in some of his wisdom.

Despite there being almost ninety name-days between uncle and nephew, he had given him sound advice the few days he had spent at Castle Black when he found out the truth. They'd sent correspondence back and forth frequently, keeping them in the chest alongside the letters he had gotten from his mother, father, and Elia. Everyone thought that the Princess was dishonoured by Rhaegar's act of crowning Lyanna, but she confirmed herself in her own words she was anything but. From reading in detail, it was clear she didn't love Rhaegar, but saw him as a good friend. Everyone thought that Rhaegar had kidnapped Lyanna a year after Harrenhal, but they were in regular contact that whole year and met up in secret frequently during the tourney. It was how they had first met after all.

Ned had never told them the story; it was only when Jon had brought it up after coming across it in one of Lyanna's letters that he finally told them all. How three squires had beaten Howland Reed only to be scared off by a petite Lyanna Stark. To her trying to convince him to win back his honour by competing against them but the Lord refusing to do so as he wasn't a good fighter nor was he a good jouster. To Brandon and Benjen relenting and getting a suit of armour that was mismatched for their sister so she could do it instead. The whole mystery of the Knight of the laughing tree was just that- a mystery. They'd disappeared after the match never to be seen again, or so people thought.

What had happened was King Aerys ordered his son to find the Knight and bring him to court as he was convinced of something going on. If only his grandfather realised that there was something going on, and it was his wife and eldest son at the forefront of it all. There was only one letter from Rhaella and it was addressed to Rhaegar, confirming she had fallen pregnant with Daenerys after Aerys had forced himself on her. The thought sickened him to his stomach. It was bad enough they were brother and sister because this went against every moral fibre in his body, but the fact a brother was forcing himself on his sister was a whole lot worse. 

Rhaegar Targaryen had come back two hours after the order was made with only the Knight's discarded shield, saying this was the only thing he had managed to find. There was no scent for dogs to track, there were no tracks on the ground, no other pieces of armour. They'd literally vanished into thin air seemingly. But his father had lied to everyone in the room. He had found the mystery Knight alongside Ser Arthur. They'd stumbled on a then fourteen name-day old Lyanna Stark scrambling to get the armour off and chucking pieces in the lake surrounding the Isle of Faces- where they would later wed secretly. She'd thought he would take her, but he'd instead laughed and congratulated her for her bravery. They'd talked for well over an hour before Howland Reed found them confirming that Aerys was going to send a search party for Rhaegar. The Prince had silenced both him and Ser Arthur to secrecy on the matter before taking the shield Lyanna had yet to throw into the water and directing her to a small cave so she could hide until it was safe for her to come out. 

The whole thing was bonkers, there was no other way to put it. He had blatantly ignored orders from not only his father but from his King, to help a girl he'd never met before? Just that one act would change Rhaegar's persona and would grant him respect. There would be no way to do that though without deposing of those who had wronged everyone on a false claim. No, Robert Baratheon did not make the claim to become King. He'd done it because he was insulted and wanted to take out the man Lyanna wanted to break the betrothal to be with so she would remain his, a fact she knew very well by her own words that the family had read. He had been thinking of 'in the now' and not the further implications. 

It was known Tywin Lannister was going to stop at nothing to get his golden-haired daughter married to a Prince or King. He'd tried to set her up with Rhaegar, only to be laughed off by Aerys who spit in his eye by marrying his son to Elia Martell. Martell's and Lannister's were famous for their hatred of one another, this clearly being a factor to the match. With Rhaegar defeated, Aerys dead, all Targaryen heirs murdered or gone into exile, meant a new ruler had to be elected. And with the Lord of Storms End being a grandson of a Targaryen meant he had the best claim, therefore being named as King. A status that had not been kind to him in the slightest. 

"Jon, you'd better come quickly. Bran's woke up."

He jumped as he came out of his thoughts to eye his cousin, the older practically bouncing on his feet in excitement. Jon eyed the dragons and gave a command for them to stay put and remain quiet. Whether they understood him was up in the air. If books were correct, dragons only responded to phrases in High Valyrian which he was still learning. Every morning and night he revised over the language, and it was worked into their lessons as well. He'd picked up on it quickly, and Aemon had been kind enough to give him letters Rhaegar had sent him that were written in it so he could practise. It didn't take him long to realise Ghost was trotting along beside him, never leaving his owner alone. Grey Wind was much the same, practically walking on Robb's heels. 

Once they had entered the room, they were met with Maester Luwin running a few tests to make sure he didn't have any internal injuries. Catelyn was sitting on the bed holding her son's hand and talking quietly to him. Their heads snapped to the oldest two and the Lady gave them a tight-lipped smile. This made Jon pause, he would've expected for her to be wearing an ear-splitting grin at him waking. Something was wrong, very wrong. 

"Did you find out who the knife belongs to, Maester?"

Luwin turned to the new Lord and shook his head.

"No record of it, which is strange. All Valyrian steel weapons were accounted for, but there isn't one that fits the description of the blade intended to take your brother's life."

That was a blow. They needed to know who it belonged to, as that would be the key to finding out what Bran had saw. Both boys sat at the opposite end of the bed to eye Bran who was looking to them with a fond look, but it was clear he'd been crying. They once again eyed Luwin, silently asking for an explanation. The older man sighed deeply before looking to them with a sorrowful expression.

"Unfortunately, when Bran landed on his back, one of the bones in his spine came loose. It's an injury that cannot be repaired, nor is it something he will come back from. He's paralysed from the waist down. He'll never walk again."

Upon hearing the words, a massive wave of guilt overcame Jon. If he had ran just a little bit faster, if he had acted when he noticed something wasn't right instead of staring, he might not be facing this. 

"I'd rather be dead; I don't want to be a cripple- "

"Don't you dare say that Bran. No, you won't walk again, but you'll be invaluable in the future. Until Robb has kids of his own, you're the heir to Winterfell- "

"I'd rather be dead."

The way he said it confirmed how badly he was taking this. Catelyn was clearly disturbed by the words, knowing this injury was going to change everything in the castle. He'll never walk, never climb, never run, or never ride again. It's a life she herself wouldn't want, nor is it one she would wish on anyone other than her worst enemy. All his dreams of being a Knight and being inducted into the Kingsguard thrown out the window just as he had been.

"Do you remember anything?"

Robb hoped he did, but this disappeared the moment he shook his head in the negative.

"He remembers up to the King leaving to go on the hunt, but nothing after that."

That was it then, they weren't going to get an answer to what had happened. At least, not yet. Of course, they could question people to see if they knew who the knife belonged to, but this would be risky. If they were going to do so, they needed to tread very carefully. 

"Are there any records of Valyrian steel weapons being melted down and remade but some of it not being accounted for?"

Jon's question was simple, but from the surprised looks of the others, confirmed he was the only one to consider this option. The material had to come from somewhere, and all Valyrian weapons were accounted for all the way down to their weight. At the development, the Maester left to search his personal archives to see if there was any missing weight from one which matched the blade the assassin intended to slit Bran's throat with. 

"Are the eggs still alive?"

At the youngest's question, all let out a short snort of laughter before realising he had no idea what had transpired. Jon leaned over towards Bran and whispered into his ear so quietly that neither Robb nor Catelyn could hear, but they could guess what he was saying. This was confirmed when his eyes widened and a huge grin took over his face. 

"I'll ask if Maester Luwin can take you to my room for a bit so you can see them. They're only a little larger than kittens currently. But Bran, I can't stay in Winterfell with them."

Almost immediately, Bran's eyes began to water as he shot his mother a glare, clearly thinking she was the cause. She'd made it no secret she wanted him out of Winterfell for many years. She simply threw her hands up to confirm she had nothing to do with it. It was Robb who asked the younger to stare at Jon to see if he could figure it out himself. Swallowing away his panic at being separated with another family member, he eyed his brother and took in all his features. He was confused by his other brother's response, wondering why he suddenly had to leave. They'd been talking about hiding the dragons in the crypts or the Wolfswood not long ago. Then he looked into his eyes, his own widening. Jon's eyes were always lilac that in dim lighting appeared steel grey. Yet now, there was nothing steel grey about them. There was still that faint ring of lilac, but they had changed to a much deeper and brighter shade of purple. 

"It happened when the dragons hatched. Eye colours don't magically change Bran, people will talk if they notice. We've already sent a letter to the Lord to confirm this, and a letter has been sent to Howland Reed asking if he can take me and the dragons in. It's the safest place for me to be right now. But I swear it by the old gods and the new, if any of you need any help, I'll be there. You're my family."

Pouting lightly, Bran simply nodded in acceptance. He might be young, but he does pick up on things quickly. As much as no one wanted the family to be split again, this was something that had to be done. Purple eyes are incredibly rare. Eye colours can change sometimes depending on the light, Catelyn's own sometimes appearing green rather than blue. But a permanent change was something else entirely. Clearly, something had awoken in Jon when the eggs hatched. Something that until that moment had remained dormant inside the boy, something that was now out in the open. They could potentially get away with the Ashara Dayne ruse they'd thought of for Robert arriving in case anyone noticed something off, but it would be too risky now. Especially with two living fire breathing dragons. 

"A raven arrived from Kings Landing today, my Lady."

The Maester reached into one of the many pockets in his robe before handing the parchment over to her. Her eyes scanned the contents and audibly let out a sigh of relief it wasn't anything serious.

"Ned and the girls have made it safely to the capital and have apparently settled relatively well. He's barely seen the King since they arrived in the Red Keep and has been acting in his stead. He's also confirmed he will use the lemon water trick we discussed for more sensitive information."

All nodded at this, glad they had made it there safely. But they were far from safe. The capital was a hotspot for liars and people who will betray for something as silly as a piece of cloth most likely. They would have to be careful. They were expecting a response regarding the dragons, one that would probably arrive in the next couple of days. Would Ned tell the girls? He'd tell Arya considering she's been ranting and raving about them since she knew what they were. The younger was intensely loyal to her father, brother, and Jon, she they could trust. It was Sansa they worried about alongside Ned. The older did not have a lot of political training before he was thrust into being the head of House Stark, he would struggle. Then there was the younger who was desperate to please them all so she could remain betrothed to Joffrey. 

"We need to come up with some excuse as to why I am leaving. The timing sits off for a fostering ruse. Fostering normally comes about from weeks of negotiation, and people will find it funny if I go there on my own. Those in the south will probably believe it as they don't care about what happens north of the Neck, but the Northerners may not."

A shaky sigh left Catelyn just as Robb gave his cousin a confused look. One understanding immediately a fault in the ruse that had been overlooked. Jon was right. There were always weeks of negotiations before a fostering was agreed on, meaning if they wanted to pass it off accurately as such, Ned would've taken him with him when he went south and met with Howland along the way. If there were a few months between the two they could've gotten away with it, but a few weeks was too suspicious looking. Especially because there are spies everywhere for other houses. 

"Where will you go then?"

Robb's question broke the silence as he looked at the map on the desk, trying to think of a way around it. Jon cannot remain in Winterfell with his eyes changing colour and there being two dragons in the castle. Dragons that will grow quickly as the North is ridden deep with magic of the children and the First Men. Something they were all experiencing silently, them dreaming at night of being their wolves. Running around, feeling soil beneath paws, taking down an animal and eating the fresh kill. None of them knew what it meant, but it had to mean something. 

"I'll still go there, Robb. He's undoubtedly the one person who will keep the secret safe. The Neck is overrun with forests, swamps, and caves. Places that can easily hide growing dragons without garnering second glances and curious whispers. Crannogmen keep to themselves, this won't be changed any time soon. Which means I'll need to make it look like I'm going somewhere else, somewhere no one will question, before heading to Greywater Watch.

"The Wall. Go there and spend a few days with my uncles. From there travel across to Eastwatch-by-the-sea, then get a ship from there down to the Neck. That way it'll look like I've taken the black, something a lot of 'bastards' do, people won't question that fact. With some words, I may be able to have Benjen and Aemon convince the others to play along by saying I was lost beyond the wall or something. That way I'm out of the picture to almost everyone, therefore no one will expect me."

To say the other people in the room were surprised at this response was an understatement. But as both thought into it, neither could deny there was a lot of merit to it. With Jon out of most people's minds, no one will think to look for him. 

"It will need work, but the idea does seem like our best course of action currently. I'll get a raven sent to Aemon and Benjen tonight and I'll mull over anything that needs to be worked on and let you know in the morning."

Both Jon and Robb knew not to argue with Catelyn when she said a final word. With that, both left the room and walked around the keep.

"It's going to be boring without you. I'll only have Bran and Rickon to keep me company now. No one to pair up with to prank them with."

The younger let out a small laugh at these words, the situation sinking in now. Winterfell was his home even though it did not feel like it at times due to the way he was treated compared to the others. Yet now he was leaving, not knowing when he will be back or even if he will be back. Once the truth comes out, who knows what will happen. The only thing that will be for certain is that the realms will be torn apart by it, and it could only be him to put them back together. 

"Are you scared?"

Jon could only nod lightly at the question, the pair soon finding themselves in the elder's room. Both walked towards the map they were both jokingly planning a conquest on the morning the dragons hatched, knowing now their plans were stupid. Some of them certainly had merit, but they couldn't force anything into action without revealing the truth. And the truth cannot come out yet, it is far too dangerous. If they do, Ned will be executed without a second glance, the girls likely would be too. Either that or kept as hostages which neither of them wants. The betrothal matches would probably be their best bet, but this lands on the assumption that the match between Sansa and Joffrey falls through. Both hoped it would, them along with Arya seeing nothing but an arrogant spoiled brat in the Prince. Sansa deserved better than that, much better than that. 

"Hopefully, I don't go mad like most of my ancestors did- "

"Actually Jon, I read up on your ancestry. Not that many did go mad. A lot of people think Targaryen's were insane and that it came from centuries of incestuous practises. But if this were the case, there would be way more cases of it. Everyone thinks Aegon I was mad, but I believe he was simply ambitious. If ambition is considered madness, there would be no such thing as Houses in Westeros. Maegor was undoubtedly mad, but this could be argued as wanting to compensate for Aenys. His brother/cousin whatever they were to one another was too soft for rule. Baelor was as well, but some may also see that as someone who was too connected with their faith. Really the only two that stand out as mad were Aerion Brightflame and Aerys II. The latter was apparently a good King up until the defiance of Duskendale, whatever happened to him in those cells flipped his coin."

Jon had never thought about it like that. Now that Robb had put it out in front of him, he realised he was right. Incestuous practises went back hundreds of years before the doom, needing to keep the bloodlines pure to keep control of the dragons. There were only forty dragonlord families in Valyria, only three of which were known. Belaerys, Targaryen, and Velaryon. The latter only becoming so after the doom and multiple intermarriages between them and the Targaryen's. The others had all died out when the fourteen volcanoes that surrounded the ancient city erupted. The only parts of the Valyrian Peninsula that weren't destroyed were Montarys, Tolos, and Elyria. 

"It's comforting having it put out like that, but this won't change people's perception of my House. I will need to prove myself, and I will need to thwart everyone. A task that will not be easy. No matter what we are headed for war, brother. It will come down to Baratheon and Lannister versus Stark and Targaryen. Thousands of lives will be lost, because the Lannister's and Baratheon's are not going to give up their positions easily. How am I going to outsmart them?"

Robb sighed deeply at this before thinking deeply on the matter.

"The Baratheon's will not go easily, there is a reason their house words are Ours Is the Fury. They will try to keep power. But when the truth comes out and people see Robert won the throne via a false claim, the pressure will force him to abdicate. However, in turn this will also insult the Lannister's due to his wife being Cersei and leave the throne open for the taking. Stannis is a hard man from what uncle has said, but he does seem fair, there's a chance he will do the same but it is slim. But in doing so this may also insult the Reach due to his wife. Renly may be older than us, but he is the Lord of Storm's End, he will not step down from that position easily. It's not like they don't have a claim because they do, but they're not first or even second in line. You're first, Viserys is second, Daenerys is third, Robert is fourth, Joffrey fifth, Tommen sixth, Myrcella either seventh or eighth alongside Stannis, Renly and Shireen are ninth and tenth respectfully."

The younger nodded at these words, agreeing wholly with Robb. He'd never met Stannis or Renly himself, but the others had when they were young. He had been told to stay away from everything going on in fear of embarrassing his uncle for his apparent dishonour. 

"I'd best get some meat to feed Rhaegon and Lyrax. The secret is going to come out soon. I don't know how, but I can feel it. The only way we can remain on top of things is if it is us who leak the information. Give it to some reliable sources, spread word around cities like Oldtown and Lannisport. The more word there is to it, the more wariness there will be. They'll probably laugh it off though, think it simply a fantasy. Then spring it on in a surprise attack- "

"Attack?! Jon, do you mean to be the one to proclaim war?!"

Robb's startled words broke the silence in the room. The younger giving the older a panicked glare as the door was not locked, anyone could've heard that. With a quick glance outside confirmed there was no one nearby, meaning they were safe. Once the door was locked, he made his way over to the table to sit down again, covering his face with his hands and letting out a long breath.

"Robb, when this gets out, it will be all out war. There will be no other way to avoid this. The sooner we start planning, the more chance we have got to secure something. We cannot let it get out whilst uncle, Sansa, and Arya are in the capital. I will not put them to risk like that. You are the only family I have left apart from an aunt and uncle my distant cousin who just so happens to be on the throne who murdered my father and laughed at the bodies of- "

"Whoa, Jon. Calm down. What happened to your family was barbaric, there is no denying that. However, you forget that it was- "

"I don't forget, Robb. I know it was my grandfather who started it by executing Rickard, tricking Brandon into strangling himself trying to save him, and then demanded your father's head. But this wouldn't have happened if that lie wasn't spread regarding my mother and father. Either someone told Robert false information or he was the one to spread it. At this point I have no idea which one is worse. Both Stark's and Targaryen's made stupid mistakes during the rebellion, mistakes which tore my family to pieces. But I can't blame anyone for it other than Robert Baratheon. It all centres around him not being able to take no as an answer."

As much as Robb wants to pretend his family is perfect, the way Jon put it there was accurate. There was no denying it. Both sides made fatal mistakes which led to both families being torn apart. Most people only see the Stark's as being the ones who lost the most, but there was no denying it was less than the Targaryen's. Aerys killed by Jaime Lannister, Rhaella dying in childbirth with Daenerys, Rhaegar killed by Robert, Lyanna also dying of childbirth, Aegon killed by the Mountain, and Rhaenys killed by Amory Lorch. To think those two men walked free and were rewarded for their actions sickened Jon to his stomach. But both are under the protection of Tywin Lannister, he cannot depose of them without facing the older man's wrath. He does not want another incident of Castamere to play out.

"We need to whittle out the houses who were loyal to mine, Robb. Truly loyal, and not simply loyal to their ambitions. This could take weeks as there are so many houses to be considered, and even then we need to consider family members. It's not uncommon for one or more family members to deflect from their Lord or Lady and favour another ruler. That is something I will be doing whilst sheltered with Howland if he accepts the request. I think he will as he is the only person I know with certainty who knows the truth. That man has proven the most loyal bannerman in the North with what he has kept hidden."

With these words spoken, both boys walked down towards the kitchens and asked for meat scraps, saying they needed to feed the wolves. If they let even the tiniest slip out that they were not just for wolves, it would not end well. Dragons had gone extinct only a few years after the civil war between Aegon II and Rhaenyra, brother and sister who had gone to war over right of succession. That was something that could not happen again, it being the one thing that ruined a large part of the Targaryen legacy Aegon, Rhaenys, and Visenya worked hard on to create. The two tiny creatures waddled over to the end of the bed when they walked in, making a series of clicking and hissing noises demanding food. 

Both boys took the skewers and roasted the meat scraps gently before holding them out, Rhaegon and Lyrax wasting no time in tucking in. At their feet, the wolves were doing so too, them now standing at waist height. Apparently when direwolves were fully grown, they were the size of horses, a thought that scared them. Just how vicious they could be was put on show when Summer ripped the assassin's neck open. Words that Lord Stark had said when they were on their way back to Winterfell with the litter. They weren't pets, nor were they tame. They were wild animals, and they were their responsibility. 

"I wonder how big they'll get."

Jon simply shrugged at Robb's comment.

"No idea. Could be anywhere from fifty feet to over two hundred feet. They never stop growing as long as they aren't kept in captivity and are fed regularly."

Once they had finished, both waddled over to Jon as they couldn't fly yet- their bodies too disproportionate to do so. Their wings being almost twice the length of their bodies. Noises that could almost be a purr emanated from both as he tickled them under the chin before the wolves grew jealous and jumped up for their share of petting too. 

"I'm going to miss you, brother. Promise you'll write?"

Jon simply grabbed his hand tightly at these words.

"I promise. I'll write as often as I can with updates, and I'll try to visit. The latter depends on whether these two will remain in the Neck because if they are seen by anyone who doesn't know, everything will be thrown out the window."

A few days later, they got the responding raven from Howland, him confirming he would be delighted to take in Jon and he was fascinated with the dragons. He confirmed he would make his way to Winterfell within the next couple of days meaning he was perhaps a week away at most. This gave them a week to prepare fully for the massive change in dynamic that is going to occur. As the time grew nearer, Rickon was becoming frantic at losing his brother and ranting over how everyone was leaving him. He had kicked, screamed, and cried to go with him or for him to stay, something which tore Jon apart. But he couldn't stay, it was far too dangerous. The only thing that calmed the boy was him saying he was not leaving forever and he was only ten days ride away at most, there could be visits from both sides. Bran was a little more subdued considering he was still getting over the idea of being crippled. With the Maester's help, they had taken him to Jon's room so he could see the dragons. With everything that was going on currently, seeing the delighted look on the younger boy's face was welcoming. He'd taken a strong liking to Lyrax after she had shoved Rhaegon out the way to get the most attention, something the silver dragon did not take kindly too as he snipped at the sapphire coloured dragon in response. It was amusing seeing their individual personalities coming to light. Lyrax being brash and bold, and Rhaegon being reserved but loyal. Robb however, had a different approach.

"Don't forget your politics lessons, Jon. I'm fed up with them and someone needs to have the brains for them when the time comes."

Jon had simply laughed and jokingly pushed Robb in response before challenging him to a spar. They hadn't done so in a while despite training hard. The older had requested Rodrik to train them separately a few weeks before so neither could pick up the others technique, trying to get a one-up on the younger. One day he was going to beat him, he was not going to take no for an answer. Even if it was only once, that was all he needed. What he didn't expect was for Jon to pick up two swords, swearing under his breath as he had forgotten Jon was learning how to use dual swords. One was a longsword which he held in his dominant hand, the other being a bastard sword in his left. But he couldn't let his hesitation show.

Robb had never sparred against someone who used dual swords before, and now he was faced with his cousin who was much more skilled in the art than he was. He himself showed a lot of promise as he was of an equal skill to Rodrik now, but he'd yet to beat the man, something Jon could do with a blindfold probably. He snickered a little as he remembered Benjen's startled look at how fast and furious his nephew was with a blade. Something he never thought he would see as Benjen was also incredibly talented. With a calculated swing with the longsword, Robb parried effortlessly but by the time he was doing so, he noticed the bastard sword coming his way, managing to move his body out of the way just in time. If they were using real weapons as opposed to tourney weapons currently, that would've been a fatal blow. 

Stepping up his skill level he surprisingly found himself able to keep up with his cousin's furious blows. He was fast, there was no denying it. A style which Robb did not prefer, but one he had to model himself to if he were to hold his own against Jon. Then again, in this element he wasn't Jon. He was Jaeron Targaryen, a hidden King born of two ancient bloodlines both of which were tainted heavily with magic. Eventually, he found a weak spot by remembering he wasn't fully trained with his non dominant hand yet. With a twist of his sword which he had picked up from the younger, the bastard sword came flying from his grip. By now, he had a large grin on his face, an expression that was mirrored by the young royal in front of him. Now, they were more evenly matched, and he hoped Jon didn't pull out one of his fancy techniques he had read up on that hadn't been used for hundreds of years. Unsurprisingly, Robb was soon disarmed but he had lasted a lot longer than he usually did which was an accomplishment.

"Good bout, boys. You need to train your left hand more young Snow and work on your form with said hand, but your technique was good. Lord Stark, you spent too much time on offense and didn't spend as much time trying to find an opening. You did eventually, but I counted at least three opportunities before that one."

Both nodded at this before practising a little more. Neither were taking it seriously after the first one and Jon even took the time to show Robb some of the moves he had learned for dual fighting in case he ever needed to use them. War will come eventually, and there's no telling when or how many people will be on each side. They need to think over everything meticulously and consider all possible options whilst observing everything happening in the realm at the same time. Something that was not going to be easy, but they need to remain a step ahead constantly. Robb decided then, he was going to pay attention in his politics lessons despite hating them with a passion. Stark's didn't take much to do with such a topic outside of the North, but they would need to do so now. 

Jon was right, as loathe as he was to admit it. It will eventually boil down to Stark and Targaryen versus Baratheon and Lannister. And the odds were most certainly against them unless they play it perfectly. They'll need spies, people who wouldn't be given a second glance to gather information they could possibly use. Before all that though, they will need to find out what really happened to Bran. There were a few people in the King's party who had long curly blonde hair, so there was no way to pin it on one person. They would need concrete evidence of what they assumed to be the case before they present it to others. He was going to help whittle down all families who were loyal to the Targaryen's up until Robert's rebellion. 

"We should gather a spy network for information."

"And how do you propose we do that, brother?"

That he hadn't thought of yet so he simply shrugged in response before following Jon to put the training swords away.

"Will you be taking your sword with you?"

The younger nodded beside him. Both made their way now to get some food where they were met with Catelyn fussing with Rickon. The younger boy ran over to Jon and latched onto his leg and begged him not to leave again. Gently, he got down onto his knee and placed a hand on his shoulder.

"Rickon, I don't want to leave, but I have to. Winterfell whilst it is my home, has never felt like home to me. I'm a man grown now and I need to find somewhere that feels like home to me. But I will write to you as often as I can, and I will visit whenever I can. That's not a statement, that's a promise. When have I ever broken a promise with you?"

His words did little to calm the little boy down but his grip did loosen lightly. 

"Ned and the girls have arrived safely in the capital. We received the raven whilst you two were training. He's hired a dancing master for Arya whatever that means and Sansa has slotted right into court life. Apparently Robert has ordered there be a massive tourney to celebrate his new position."

Both Robb and Jon snorted at this, Ned despised tourneys. He thought they were nothing but a waste of time and coin. Only something created so Knights could boast about their skills by competing against as many people as possible. 

"He probably won't even turn up, he hates them."

Catelyn simply nodded in response. She herself enjoyed tourneys, but she couldn't deny that she saw her husbands point with them being a waste of time and coin. One a year was all that was needed, no more than that. Invite a few competitors from each of the Kingdoms to compete. Nothing more than that. Knowing the King and Queen though, they would want it to be extravagant to show off their wealth and status. 

"When is Lord Howland expected to arrive, Lady Catelyn?"

She turned to her nephew now and quirked an eyebrow up at the fact he was tearing into a bread roll with his teeth instead of picking bits off like what was expected of someone of high rank. He would need etiquette training alongside political training. He'd also need to be trained on court mannerisms. Hence why she had written up a list of things to teach him that she was intending to give to the Lord. Jon simply blushed before tearing off pieces with his fingers and dunking it into his soup whilst Robb was desperately trying to stifle a laugh at the encounter.

"He should arrive in around five or six days at the latest. It's only a maximum of ten days to ride from the Neck to Winterfell and this is due to the marshes and swamps that make up the area. But he'll be accustomed to them, I'd assume it will take him around eight days to get here. Have you started packing yet?"

The younger nodded at these words. He didn't have much belongings to begin with so it didn't take him long to do so. It was the dragons he was worried about, how he was going to hide them on the journey down. He doesn't want to cage them up or shove them in a box, but he cannot have them out in the open either. Once he was finished with his food, he stood up to leave only to be handed something from Catelyn. He frowned before looking down to see a key which was encrusted with rubies and some other stone he couldn't place. 

"Ned told me where to find this, apparently only Howland has a spare. He said there is something waiting for you in the tomb. I have no idea what, he just had it on the letter."

He nodded at her words before making his way outside, Robb hot on his heels. Since he was told, Jon had never plucked up the courage to go down into the crypts. He didn't want to come face to face with the statue of his mother. But now he knew he needed to, and Robb was going to support him. The older guided him through the plethora of tunnels that made up the crypts of Winterfell, him knowing the way to where Brandon, Rickard, and Lyanna were buried. Why had Ned not given him whatever this was when he told him? What was he about to be faced with? They were near the end and Jon noticed a few other empty slots beside them.

"That's where we'll all be buried when we die. Father beside his siblings, and our siblings after this. Jaeron, this one is your mother."

Jon gave Robb an odd look at the use of his actual name. He'd only ever used it teasingly after finding out, so him using it in such a serious setting was something else. The older handed the torch to Jon as he hesitantly walked over to stand directly in front of his mothers tomb. She was short, that was the first thing that came to his mind. He was a few inches taller than her, and she looked a lot like Arya. Ned always said his youngest daughter reminded him of his own sister on numerous occasions. From the letters sent between his parents, he knew she had very dark hair and steel grey eyes that was common with Stark's. Her face was long but it was also angular, and he spotted a bunch of carved roses at her feet. 

"I wish I knew you, and I wish you knew me. But I know now, uncle kept his promise to you mother. He protected me, and he told me on my sixteenth name-day just like you asked. I don't blame you for what happened, it wasn't your fault. You and father both tried to get correspondence out but this was never received or was ignored. Arya looks like you a lot, from what uncle has said you were a lot like her in personality. I'm sorry you never got to meet your nephews and nieces, and I'm sorry that the man you broke a betrothal with started the war and killed father. But I'm still alive, I'll avenge you both. Alongside Elia, Aegon, and Rhaenys."

Tears were building up in his eyes but he refused to let them fall. Instead he looked around for wherever this key went. He found it near the bottom of her feet and with a start realised the roses carved there were done separately. Clearly done to hide whatever was here. Once the hatch was opened though, he was met with a small box. Carefully, he lifted it out and blew the dirt off it that's come with being buried for so many years. It was black and red, the colours of his house. The clasp enclosing it had three snarling dragons on it and the outside was marked to look like scales. When he opened it, the gasp that escaped his lips was heard by Robb a few metres away.

"What is it, Jon?"

The younger blinked a few times before placing it down on the ground and picking up what was inside of it. A crown, but not just any crown. One made of Valyrian steel and was encrusted with numerous rubies.

"It's a crown, Robb."

The older boy's eyes widened at this as he walked over to join him, but unlike his brother he recognised the item immediately.

"Jon, do you know what this is?"

He gave him a confused look to confirm he did not know, only that it was a crown.

"Brother, this is the crown of Aegon the conqueror. It's been lost for decades, everyone assumed it had been melted down and forged into a weapon."


	11. X

Jaeron IX

Deep down, a part of Jon did not want to leave, and another part of him did not want Howland to arrive. It was an incredibly selfish thought, but Winterfell was all he knew. It was all he thought he would know apart from perhaps the Wall. A piece of him still felt like Jon Snow, the scared little bastard boy who was constantly sneered at in the corridors and was noticeably shunned by the Lady. Yet now, there was no turning back. He cannot go back to when his life was simple, it was simply far too dangerous. Not only for him, but for his siblings and his father. Over the past few days, he had gotten peace with still considering Ned and the Stark kids his siblings and his father. 

He would never get to meet his own siblings; both were murdered when Lyanna was still pregnant with him. Two babes that were way too young to cause any issue yet Tywin Lannister and Robert Baratheon carried out the horrid act anyway. No, today was his last day as the bastard son of Lord Eddard Stark. From tomorrow, he would be the last legitimate son of Rhaegar Targaryen, a son nobody knew existed apart from a select few. He did not feel ready to make the leap from bastard to King, which was why Catelyn had been drilling him on basic courtesies that was expected of a noble. 

Yes, he knew the absolute basics in case he came face to face with another noble, but now he was a noble himself. He had to learn how to act like one, talk like one, and lead like one. Robb had been helping him by allowing him to shadow when carrying out the acting Lord duties, but it likely wouldn't prove to be useful to him. Whether he liked it or not, Jon was a royal. Not only a royal, he had the highest claim out of everyone. If he is to one day reveal himself, he will need to be able to have a mind sharper than a sword. To become someone prepared for the slightest inconvenience to deadly inconveniences. Someone who could strategize if this were the case to always remain at the top of the board. 

It was something he never thought he would have to do, and he will have to learn quickly. All other Lords and royals have had decades of experience, whereas he has had a few days. Silently, he was glad he was someone who was a quick learner. He had been sending ravens back and forth with Aemon and Benjen to alert them to his arrival, this being his first tactic he was going to use. If something does happen, no one will think to look for him as they will assume he is dead. This will give him an advantage, whilst he would be staying in Greywater Watch with Howland, Jyana, and his children. He had yet to learn their names. Someone that was relatively central in Westeros, only a day's ride away from the Riverlands and the Vale. 

"Have you finished packing everything?"

He snapped his head up to face Robb who also had a grimace on his normal jovial expression. 

"Just about. Only the sword and then need to find a way to get these two into the cages Maester Luwin leant me. I've already tried but they did not take kindly to it."

The older chuckled at this before eyeing the dragons. It was alarming how quickly they were growing. They were now more than double the size they were when they had hatched, and Rhaegon had begun breathing fire. Granted, it was only a small stream of flame, but it was still fire. The blue one waddled over and climbed up Robb's leg to perch on his shoulder, her weight taking him off guard. With the door locked, Jon slid out the sword from under his bed and covered the noticeable hilt with some contraption Luwin had asked Mikken to make. The blacksmith had found the request odd, but he did so anyway when Catelyn gave him a stern glare. He had the real sheath inside his suitcase and had Dark Sister in a bashed in sheath he had taken from the armoury. No one would think he carried the legendary blade of Visenya Targaryen in that. It was clipped on to his hip not long after before he eyed his dragons.

"Now, I need to trap them. This is not going to be pretty at all."

Robb hesitantly went up to remove Lyrax from his shoulder but she simply clamped down harder causing him to wince. She wasn't clawing enough to draw blood, but certainly enough to bruise. 

"Nyke gīmigon ao gaomagon daor jaelagon naejot sagon isse se cado, yn daorys kostagon gīmigon nyke emagon ao lanta. Ziry jāhor mērī sagon syt nykeā mība jēda." (I know you do not want to be in the cage, but no one can know I have you two. It will only be for a short time.)

Rhaegon let out a small hiss but much to both boy's surprise, he waddled into the cage. Robb only caught a few of the words his brother had spoken, the younger already being leagues ahead of him in the language. He spoke some other words to the dragon after this but he did so quietly to the point the older could not make out what he was saying. Once the door was closed, he noticed the silver dragon let out another hiss, showing he did not take well to being locked up. Jon didn't want to lock them up, but there would be a war on their doorstep if it got out he had two dragons. Creatures that have supposedly been extinct for over a hundred years. 

Unlike the silver dragon, Lyrax did not immediately obey. She screeched, whined, snapped, and hissed from her spot, right into Robb's ear and possibly leaving him with partial hearing for a while. It took a solid twenty minutes to finally get her into her own cage and this only happened by tricking her with Jon holding her like a human child and tickling her stomach. It was a rather comical sight, but the marks on their skin was anything but comical. How no one had barged in when they heard the noise was lost on them, but Robb strongly suspected his mother had something to do with that. 

"Zaldrīzes dohaeri iksos daor." (A dragon is not a slave)

Jon let out a small laugh at his brother's words before replying.

"Daor, zaldrīzoti issi daor vēttan naejot sagon mirre iemny." (No, dragons are not made to be kept inside.)

Jon now pulled the cover over the crate that was carrying them all to keep them from sight fully which only annoyed Lyrax more but a simple command to remain quiet got her to do so. But he was dreading when they finally arrive and they are let out. Robb helped carry everything to the courtyard where Howland would be riding in any moment. On their way outside they heard the horn signalling a rider had been spotted. 

"How much trouble did they give you both?"

From the irritated looks on both boy's, Catelyn had her answer.

"Rhaegon was fine, but he's not happy. Lyrax on the other hand decided to be a spoiled brat about it."

The Lady smiled a little, clearly finding the image funny but refusing to let her exterior fall. They talked a little between themselves until a few guards rode through followed by who could only be the Lord and Lady of Greywater Watch. Both swung off their horses and hesitantly walked over, both boy's surprised by how short they were. Jyana was almost a head shorter than them, and Howland was a few inches shorter as well. Then again, it was common knowledge that the crannogmen were short of stature- and if rumours were true, had blood of the Children in their veins. 

"It's wonderful to see you my Lord and Lady, Hodor here will take care of your horses. Please help yourself to bread and salt and we can continue in a meeting room."

Both smiled at this but Jon noticed the lingering look Howland was giving him. From the slightly raised eyebrows, he knew he recognised him immediately. Once all were seated in one of the private rooms, the Lord turned to him in awe.

"Gods, look at you. You look so much like your father, mother's colouring though. You were just born the last time I saw you."

He had the grace to blush slightly at this, understanding the compliment. He had to be someone who was humble if people were going to follow him in the future. Some food was brought in and they were left to their own devices afterwards. 

"If you don't mind me asking my Lady, why now?"

Catelyn turned to him and gave him a subtle nod.

"As you'll know from our ravens my Lord, I successfully hatched dragons a few weeks ago. But something else happened at the same time, something I didn't notice until Lord Stark pointed it out. My eyes were lilac-grey in colour beforehand, yet they're now bright purple. We were considering using an alias that I was instead the bastard son of Brandon Stark and Ashara Dayne as that would explain the eyes, but there wasn't enough time to alert them. It's also unheard of for eyes to change colour in the span of a couple of hours permanently instead of just looking like another colour in different lighting."

Both nodded at this, understanding where they were all coming from. The alias would've worked if his eyes had slowly turned this shade over the years, but instantly changing immediately disqualified this idea. 

"My Lord if you don't mind me asking. How is it ravens get to Greywater Watch if it is not always in the same place?"

He smiled kindly towards Robb at this.

"Ravens get sent to an abandoned tower in the Neck approximately half a day's ride away from the castle. Said tower has regular riders going back and forth between the castle, other holdfasts, and some houses as well."

Jon hummed lightly under his breath at this, that was a smart idea. Perhaps one he could use in the future if they needed to avoid potential interception. 

"From the latest raven received, you want to travel to the Wall first to spend some time with your uncles for a few days before heading south by ship, correct?"

He confirmed this was the case, and from the quirk of an eyebrow he knew the Lord was testing him by asking why. 

"We agreed fostering, however I realised that these arrangements come from weeks of negotiations which did not tie in with the timeline. I cannot remain in Winterfell, and as we are still going by the bastard story- the only place a bastard can go is the Wall. Either this or Knighthood, but the second option is not ideal. All it takes is someone who was close to my father to recognise me. If I go there first, people will think I've taken the black and will not think anything else of me. Which means I'll still be hidden."

Silence ensued for a few moments at these words before Jyana let out a barking laugh.

"You've been training him well, Lady Catelyn. Very clever."

Her husband was simply smiling in amusement, a look that was shared by Robb because there was no denying the idea had a lot of merit. He would seemingly be lost, meaning no one would think of him. When the time comes, there will be an even bigger shock than Rhaegar having a second son and Eddard Stark committing treason to protect said son. 

"Alright then. We shall stay for luncheon, and then we will start riding north. Have you packed everything, little Prince?"

The younger confirmed he had packed everything, and Catelyn took it upon herself to show the Lord and Lady around Winterfell. 

"He seems like a nice man, very short though."

Jon snorted at the comment before challenging Robb to another spar, something they wouldn't do again for a long time. Who knows how long he will be in Greywater Watch for. It could be weeks, months, maybe even years. Both walked out to the courtyard and grabbed their preferred sparring swords, Jon making a mental note to himself to go easy on Robb. As he is now the acting Lord of the castle, he is expected to keep up appearances. Plus, he felt like he owed it to him to let him win a bout. He simply grabbed a training longsword, knowing he still had a lot of work to do regarding his non dominant hand. After their last sparring session, he'd had cramps in said hand for days as he was not prepared for it yet. He humoured him for a while first before feigning he was getting tired, which allowed Robb to get in a swing to end the spar. He simply nodded and gave him a warm smile before taking the blades they were using and putting them away. 

"I guess this is farewell, Snow."

Jon snorted a little at the use of his bastard name.

"Aye, it sure is Stark."

With that said, both made their way to the main hall where they were greeted with two tables filled with freshly roasted meat, numerous fruits, alongside a lot of miniature cakes, and a few of Old Nan's famed kidney pies. All helped themselves to large portions but unsurprisingly it wasn't long until neither could eat another morsel. 

"Are you sure about heading out straight away, my Lord? Would yourself and the Lady not like a day to rest?"

Howland gave her a warm look at her hospitality.

"Nay, my Lady. As we all know, the more he remains here the more dangerous the situation will become. However, Jyana here would like to stay for a few days before heading back to Greywater Watch. She wanted to get out of the Neck for a little bit. I'll accompany him to the Wall myself to spend time with Aemon and Benjen before riding to Eastwatch before taking a boat down. From there we'll ride to the castle considering you cannot get to it by any other method."

Catelyn nodded curtly at the response, sensing the dismissal in his words. They stayed to talk for a while before they decided to leave. When Rickon noticed him, he gave him such a stern glare before crying again, refusing to say goodbye to him. It was Robb who was the most emotional of those who knew, Catelyn still playing the part of a dutiful wife hating the stain of her husband. 

"Don't get yourself killed, Jon. No one needs those things running rampart throughout the North."

The younger laughed at this, knowing that the dragons would not react well if that happened.

"You should know by now Robb that us Targaryen's are hard to kill. You Stark's are the same."

The older smiled at his words, knowing them to be true. It was only catastrophic events that seemed to rip the two families apart, something that had happened only seventeen years ago. The realm has been at relative peace for that length of time, but it probably won't be for much longer. One day the truth will come out, and it will plunge the continent into a huge war. Four major houses fighting against one another, three Kingdom's against one another. Stormlands, Crownlands, and the North. The first two already having a bloody history for which parts of said Kingdom's belonged to who. Robb rid the thoughts from his head and helped strap his belongings to his black stallion his father had gifted him for his thirteenth name-day. When it came to strapping Lyrax and Rhaegon though, he could tell they were not pleased in the slightest. He couldn't remember who was in what box, but he guessed the one making annoyed noises was Lyrax. Then he proceeded to pull in his brother tightly.

"I'll be back one day, Robb. And when the day comes, woe to any of our enemies."

It was only once he had swung onto the horse that it all sunk in for everyone. Robb could see tears in Jon's eyes before he and Howland rode out of Winterfell. A place he wouldn't come back to for quite some time. Right now, Robb needed his father, but his father was hundreds of miles away in Kings Landing with his sisters. There is now only two Stark's in Winterfell, and it oddly didn't feel like home with just him and Rickon. 

Jon remembered the journey to the Wall from the last time they had made the journey up. He'd only known for a week or so when he did so, yet it's now been nearing three months. He's fully come to accept who he is and what his position entails, a position he will need to embrace one day. He is a Prince, and a Prince must be a master at politics to weave through everything. A topic he had only begun being taught in a few days after he was told. He'd picked up on a few things, and Robb had been kind to give him notes and testing him on it, but he was far from a master at them. The North doesn't care much for this, typically staying out of everything and remaining isolated to the other Kingdoms. But the south was not, and it is the south he will need to impress with these things.

"Jaeron, I need to make you aware of something before you arrive in Greywater Watch. Us crannogmen are notorious for keeping to ourselves unless we have absolutely no choice, and a lot of us do not take part in fighting. Therefore, we do not have a master at arms. However, I have requested one for you and he should be here approximately a fortnight from now. He's the same man who taught my Meera how to fight. I have also requested someone well-versed in courtly politics from the Reach to teach you on this. In relation to politics, I can teach you on that considering it's a topic that fascinates me greatly."

He nodded at this, although he did give him a look over the use of his actual name. At times he still felt like the bastard of Ned Stark but hearing his birth name kicked it into action that he was the legitimate heir of Rhaegar Targaryen. Like before, the ride was long and hard. Stopping every few hours to feed and water the horses whilst nibbling on salt beef. On their way, the pair talked often, getting to know one another. Jon knew that when the time comes, Howland will make a very loyal ally, and the man had stated after two days he would love to serve under him once the secret is out. 

Six days after leaving Winterfell, the Wall finally came into their line of vision, somehow taking his breath away again. To think his ancestor built that thing was something else. As they approached, a few brothers rode out to meet them, giving them odd looks before the young boy stated he was expected by Maester Aemon and Benjen Stark. However, he frowned when the brothers paused and tilted their heads- almost as if they were saying sorry. What could they be sorry for? Had something happened? He didn't dare ask though before the gates were opened and the pair rode on with the brothers following behind. The Lord Commander coming over to greet him but he too had his head bowed in a sorrowful manner.

"The stewards will take the horses for you both, but we should meet in private. We have news."

Now, dread sunk in deep for him. Realising now that something must've happened for them to be acting like this. And it must be serious to cause these reactions. His eyes scanned the crowd for Benjen, but he couldn't see him. Perhaps he was on a ranging north of the Wall, a likely option considering he is the First Ranger. With a simple nod towards Howland, they swung from their mounts and Jon unclipped his belongings. Not wanting to chance a black brother rifling through his belongings. 

"Have a seat kid, we need to talk. A raven was sent a week ago, but I'd imagine you left just as it was leaving here. Help yourself to some ale or wine."

The Lord's chambers were not much better than the rest of the castle, but it was clear it was the best one there was on offer. Silently, he swore that if he does win the game, he will have the castles restored to their maximum potential. 

"It's your uncle Benjen, kid. He went on a ranging a month ago, but he has not returned yet. The other riders horses did but his did not, but neither of the rangers who went with him also came back. We have sent people to search for him, but there have been no sightings of him. We presume him either dead, stranded, or a captive of the Wildings."

Just like that, Jon felt his heart drop heavy in his chest. Surely he didn't hear that correctly. Benjen missing? Presumed dead or a captive? If he knew his uncle as much as he did, he would never allow himself to be captured. He'd also sent letters back and forth with him for years confirming he was relatively respected by the Wildings, so why would they capture him? That option made no sense whatsoever. Unless they were using him as bait to get information, but it doesn't tie in with their nature to do so. Which meant he was either stranded somewhere, or he was dead. His hand reached up to cover his mouth as he forced himself to keep tears at bay. He couldn't lose another family member. Yes, the family members who had died to him happened before he was born or in his mother's case, as he was being born, but it didn't hurt any less. 

"Benjen wouldn't allow himself to be captured. The young wolf is a lot smarter than people give him credit for. I've known him since he was fourteen- almost eighteen years now. It does not tie in with his character."

Jeor nodded at this, seemingly having come to the same conclusion. Yes, it was still a possibility, but with Benjen's nature, it was the most unlikely. 

"We have sent one more party after him, but if they come back empty handed- we will unfortunately be considering him perished."

Jon simply nodded, blinking hard to stop tears from coming. He'd always been close with Benjen, and the thought that he was gone felt like an arrow to his chest. But they cannot keep sending out search parties, it's a waste of people if they're not coming back. 

"Now, I believe you wanted to speak to Maester Aemon privately. I've got to say, I find it a little strange that the bastard son of Lord Eddard is communicating regularly with a Targaryen considering what happened."

At these words, his lips immediately pursed into a very tight line, eyeing the small cages that contained his dragons at his feet. He was surprised that neither of them made a sound during this, probably sleeping because they were sure making a ruckus on the way here. Lyrax especially. Rhaegon was the more behaved of the pair, but he was far from mellow as he had found out the hard way by getting a small stream of flame blown from the cage a couple of days ago dropping in some meat for him to feed on. However, Aemon deserved to know they had hatched- it was him who had given him the eggs after all. Jeor had his eyebrow quirked, trying to goad him into revealing everything. After thinking to himself for a few minutes and sharing a few wary looks with Howland, he realised if they were going to pull it off, someone needed to be in on it.

"Lord Commander, I apologise for not confirming this during my last visit, but I was still coming to terms with it all and I was unsure who I could trust. My name is not Jon Snow, and I am also not Ned Stark's son. He raised me as his own, he claims me as his own, I share blood with him, and I see him as my father- but he did not sire me. My name is Jaeron Targaryen, son of Lyanna Stark and Rhaegar Targaryen. The rebellion was built on a lie and I have proof with official documents and letters sent between all parties that confirms this. I'm Aemon's thrice great nephew. That is why I've been communicating with him frequently, he is family, the only family I know for certain on this side of the tree is alive."

Jeor immediately began coughing on his ale at this, covering his mouth with his hand to get it under control. That was when he remembered something, he was a Mormont. Mormont's fought in the rebellion, and here he was telling the previous head of said house it was a lie? Perhaps he shouldn't have said things.

"How long have you known? And why in seven hells have you not put that out there yet? Tens of thousands of people died over a lie?!"

His face was getting redder, clearly trying to stop the anger from showing.

"I have only known for around four months Lord Commander. My uncle promised my mother that he would tell me on my sixteenth name-day. Which he did. It took me a long time to come around to it, and it took me longer to decide. I want justice for what happened, I don't want the man who got insulted over my mother refusing to marry him on the throne who is also the man who murdered my father by crushing his chest in with a hammer. One day the truth will come out, and I promise you it will be before my twentieth name-day. I want to clear my father's name, I want to clear that disgusting kidnap and rape rumour regarding my mother, I want revenge just as much as you do now you know the truth. But I was not groomed to be a leader, and it is something I will need to learn. I also want to make sure my biggest weapons can be used to their full potential before I do anything. I want justice for my murdered siblings and even justice for Elia despite what she would've been if it all got out-"

He cut off after this, realising he was now ranting and not simply stating his answer. He took a few breaths, allowing himself to calm down before eyeing him directly. The stare seemed to go on for hours which was probably only a minute or two, but then Jeor smiled in pride at him.

"You remind me of myself at your age, kid. You've got your mind set on getting justice, and you're not seeing it as revenge. That's a fantastic mindset for a good leader to have. Now, I have to say I'm curious about these weapons you have- "

It was at that moment that one of the dragons let out a loud screech, Jaeron rolling his eyes in annoyance. That couldn't have been timed better if he were trying. The older man gave him a confused glance at this before the young Prince lifted the cages up so they were on the desk and opened the hatch so he could see, a silver and blue head popping out. If Jeor was shocked when he told him, he was well and truly shitting himself now. His eyes widened massively and his body leaned back just enough.

"Lord Commander Mormont meet Rhaegon and Lyrax, my hatchlings. Aemon gave me the eggs himself and they hatched around four weeks ago now."

His eyes were still wide but he hid whatever feelings he had other than this well.

"You know where Aemon's tower is, you can head up anytime unless he is needed."

Jon nodded before closing the hatch again and making his way to the Maester's tower. It was the same as the last time he had visited, but he spotted a new steward there. He appeared to be a similar age to Jon, perhaps a year or two older but no more than that. And he was fat, almost as fat as King Robert was.

"Samwell, who is it?"

He turned to Jon before describing him back to the elderly man before being dismissed. Aemon was seated at his desk with numerous letters strewn on the desk alongside an old tome. 

"I've been waiting on you nephew. You said you've got a surprise?"

Jon smiled deeply before taking the seat Samwell was occupying moments before. He whispered to the dragons to be quiet before opening the hatch completely, allowing them to crawl out. Both made a show in stretching their wings and necks, clearly trying to show how uncomfortable they were in there. It was Lyrax who first noticed Aemon and she steadily walked across the table to sniff at his hand. He snatched it away almost immediately before stopping himself. After a moment of wariness, she tilted her head against his skin and purred lightly. Aemon allowed a massive smile to come onto his face as he figured out what this meant.

"They hatched. The one nuzzling your hand is Lyrax- she's blue and grey. Rhaegon is currently sitting on my shoulder. He's pure silver apart from his wings which are red and black."

"Dragons are well and truly back in the world. I never thought I'd feel one, the last ones died out around forty years before I was even born. Aren't you a sweet little thing."

He began tickling her underneath her chin and her purring only got louder at this, clearly enjoying the attention. Despite being the troublemaker of the pair, there's no denying she's the gentlest. Rhaegon was way too wary of new people, but he didn't cause trouble. 

"They're around the size of a large domestic cat currently, they were roughly the size of kittens when they hatched."

"Dragons grow fast when not in captivity and are fed regularly. That knowledge was passed down through the family and to a few trusted Maester's."

Howland remained near the back of the room, doing an excellent job at blending in with the shade, simply watching the encounter. He himself was shocked when the dragons emerged from the cages despite knowing the boy had them. No one alive but them, Jeor, Robb, Bran, and Catelyn had seen a living dragon- and it was an experience he would never forget. 

"Jaeron, the Lord Commander will be coming in shortly alongside the master at arms here. Apparently he was banished for refusing to bend the knee to Robert once the rebellion came to an end."

Jon gave him a weird look at this, spotting a quirk of a smile on his face before a knock echoed. How did he know they were coming? And how did he know who was coming? He went to put the dragons in the cages so the master at arms didn't see them, but like expected, ran away from him the moment he tried to do so. He closed his eyes and breathed deeply- looks like someone else is finding out the truth. 

"Why have you asked me to come here Lord- seven hells, are they what I think they are?!"

Now that he was looking at him, he recognised him. Alliser Thorne, the man who was incredibly hostile to Catelyn, a feeling she returned clearly. He wasn't an idiot when it came to reading body language, it was obvious the pair hated one another for some reason. 

"Ser Alliser, please take a seat. You as well Lord Commander. And yourself too Ser- "

"Lord Howland Reed, Maester, of Greywater Watch."

Alliser snorted at this.

"What's a crannogman doing this far north?"

Howland either ignored him or didn't have a response to the answer, somehow Jon knew it was the first option. 

"He is accompanying my nephew here, Ser Alliser. And I will not tolerate this hatred in my solar."

Upon hearing the word, his eyes darted to Jon and began studying his features in detail now. He remembered the boy; it was difficult to remember the kid who beat Benjen Stark spectacularly the last time he was here. But why was Aemon calling him nephew? 

"Here to take the black, young Snow?"

"Nay, I am not Ser. I am simply here to spend a few days with my uncle and to show him my dragons that hatched from eggs he gifted me during my last visit here. Also, I am not a Snow, I am a Targaryen like Aemon. My name is Jaeron, last living legitimate son of Rhaegar and only son of Lyanna Stark."

Just like Jeor, when the words left the boy's mouth, he began choking on his ale. Once this subsided, he eyed the boy up and down. Gods, he sure as hell looked like Rhaegar. From the high cheekbones to sharp jawline to even his nose shape. Then there were his eyes, a bright purple- a characteristic the Targaryen's had. Once it sunk in the boy was not lying, he threw his head back and laughed merrily.

"So, Robert Baratheon convinced most people he kidnapped and raped her when they eloped and had a child together and said child has been hid under his nose the whole time? Gods be damned, the man will be furious when he finds out!"

He laughed harder at this and it was difficult to hide a smile. Clearly some people didn't believe the story that the King was spreading around and was adamant was the truth.

"Jaeron, normally we do not accept people to remain here if they are not taking the black. But in these circumstances, I would be more than happy to take you on. Help groom you for leadership."

Now, he looked at Jeor with a shred of awe. He wanted to take him on to groom him specifically? The offer was tempting, and up here he can be close to Aemon and have updates on Benjen. But he'd already come to an agreement, hence why Lord Reed was here.

"I appreciate the offer, Lord Commander. However, I've already agreed an arrangement with Lord Howland here. I came here partially to spend time with my uncles, but also to create an alias considering everyone thinks of me as a bastard. I can't go down the Knight route in case someone recognises my father in me, which only leaves here. I can't stay in Winterfell with two dragons and with bright purple eyes. They only turned this colour when they hatched, so we couldn't create another ruse to explain the sudden change in colour. I will be going to Greywater Watch with Howland; he knows everything as he was there when Eddard found my mother after birthing me. Since nobody knows anything apart from a select few, I was going to make it look like I'd taken the black and been lost on a ranging. That way when the time comes to do it, they won't even consider me."

Aemon was openly smirking now, clearly proud of the reasoning. It was a sound plan, no one could deny that. Jeor and Alliser took it all in before nodding in acceptance, both knowing they weren't going to budge on what they've already agreed. Plus, the wall isn't necessarily the best place to hide a Prince of all things. 

"In which case, Ser Alliser, would you accept to be released from your vows to train the Prince? I heard Benjen saying something about learning how to fight with dual blades is that correct?"

Jon blushed a little and nodded meekly, giving ground to the compliment. The man thought everything through deeply before shaking his head.

"I took my vows because it was either this or die for refusing to bend to Robert Baratheon. I will not risk that, and I take my vows seriously. I will not break them, nor will I accept to be released from said vows Lord Commander. However, I do have a suggestion for someone who fights dual bladed who may be able to help. Torghen Hill, a bastard of House Tollet. He fought alongside us but he escaped before Robert could give him the same sentence as mine own. He has been residing in Pentos. I can send a raven summoning him if you would like me to do so?"

Respect immediately built for the man, despite the way he had spoken down to his aunt and had called him bastard when he'd arrived the last time. He knew if his uncle were here beside him, he would have the same respect for him. Ned Stark took oaths and vows seriously; he's proven that by keeping who he is quiet for sixteen years. He accepted the offer immediately because he would need someone to train him who did fight with dual swords and was good at it. He won't progress if he is practising solely on dummies. 

"I will be staying for around a week, Lord Commander. Will that be enough time to make it look as though I'm lost?"

He stood up and gave him a quizzical glance, clearly challenging him silently.

"It should be. We'll stage it as you refused to admit your uncle is dead which unfortunately, looks like it may be the case, and you went looking for him and never came back. But please, keep those things from burning parts of the building down."

Rhaegon snapped in annoyance at this, clearly noticing he was talking about them. Jon spoke hurriedly to the silver dragon before giving confirmation no harm would come to the people nor the castle whilst he was here. The first part of the plan is now in motion. Now, it's only a matter of time. He has now officially entered the game.


	12. XI.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. The first part of this chapter is happening at the same time as chapter X.  
> 2\. In this all the Stark kids are wargs like they are in the books and not just Brandon.  
> 3\. I'm aware the warg scene isn't the best but I've never written one before, but there will be more as time goes on.

Eddard V

The last time Eddard Stark had entered Kings Landing, he swore he would not set foot in the foul city again. Yet here he was, right back to the place where he first saw the man he considered a great friend for who he really was. How he had been blinded for so long was lost to him, but the past cannot be unwritten. When they were approaching, Sansa's eyes were wide in wonder and Arya was much the same but not as much as her elder sister. At least that was something that would work out, Sansa was always more southern than northern, and she had time to shine whilst she was here. But she would have to learn that life isn't all sunshine and daisies, and she will need to learn that soon.

He expected the whole thing with Lady to be enough to open her eyes to this, but it wasn't. Ever since he had taken the blade to his daughter's wolf on Robert's orders she could barely even look at him, clearly blaming him for what happened alongside Arya. But he had to get her alone to warn her of the dangers of the capital. She cannot go on with these thoughts and idealisations. He thought the capital may have changed since Aerys was killed as he didn't care for the smallfolk at all- taking them and burning them alive for his own amusement often. 

So, to say he was shocked that the city seemed worse than then was not a nice thought. They were miles away when the putrid stench of shit reached their nostrils, both girls immediately gagging at it. The gates were better fortified which was to be expected as anyone can enter the city, but it did strike Ned odd that all standing guard were wearing red and gold. Were there no Baratheon men manning the walls? Perhaps they took it in turns every few hours. Once they had reached the Dragon Gate, all bundled out of the wheelhouse and dismounted from their horses to enter the capital. 

To think this city didn't even exist only three hundred years prior, it's now larger than Oldtown and Lannisport combined and a population the same as what the North is as a whole. They were escorted through numerous streets, it not escaping his notice they were avoiding Flea Bottom, getting closer to the huge castle. The last time he had been in the Red Keep was when he proclaimed Jon as his bastard and with his sisters bones in a chest, the time before that being when he and Robert fell out over the murders of Aegon, Rhaenys, and Elia. Ned closed his eyes and breathed deeply, remembering Jon's words just before he left. 

Don't do anything stupid, you're the only father figure I have.

He knew he would find no allies in these cursed streets. It wasn't unknown that everyone in Kings Landing is a liar and nobody is to be trusted. The further away they got from Flea Bottom, the better the stench got and by the time they had reached the gates surrounding the castle, it was almost completely gone. Sansa and Arya were looking up in wonder at the large turrets and the bright red bricks which made the building stand out against the cream of most other buildings in the capital. 

"My Lord, a raven just arrived from Winterfell."

He turned to Jory and held his hand out to take it, deciding to wait until he was in his own chambers before opening it to see its contents. The last one he received was worrying, and it set him on edge. Jon had apparently saw someone in the tower when Bran fell, and Catelyn found a clump of curly blonde hair that wasn't yet dirty- confirming it had not been there for long. Her telling him to be careful as she suspected something was going on. It took him reading it numerous times to get the hidden meaning of the letter, but it only set dread deeper into his mind. 

"Father, look how big it is!"

He laughed a little at Arya's words as they made their way to the entrance of the castle. Jon's ancestor built this- an ancestor renowned for his cruelty. But there was no denying the architecture involved was an incredible sight. Already, the sweltering heat of the south was getting to him, and he could tell it was getting to Jeyne too as she was fanning her face with her hands. Something Sansa was scoffing at as it's not exactly ladylike to do so. 

They were led inside by a member of the Kingsguard, a couple of Gold Cloaks, alongside a few other guards. The steps in the tower of the Hand seeming to go on forever. Easily a couple of hundred feet tall, and by the time they were at the top, they were struggling to breathe. Sansa immediately claimed the second largest room which was opposite Ned's, and Arya took the one beside his. As soon as the door was closed behind him, he pulled the letter out and broke the direwolf seal. What was happening now? The last letter was worrying enough. 

Ned, I am writing to let you know the good news. Bran finally awoke from his coma but unfortunately there was a spinal injury which has rendered him paralysed from the waist down. I've already consulted with Maester Luwin to see if there is a way to cure said injury but he is unaware of one. He is not taking it well and begged someone to kill him as he'd rather be dead than be crippled. However, it has come to my attention the wolves are more protective over the children than they are of them. A cutthroat was hired for Bran that wielded a Valyrian steel dagger. The boy's have taken it upon themselves to try and get to the bottom of this, but Summer tore the man's throat out after I managed to fight him off temporarily. I'm certain it wasn't an accident, but it was clearly not done by someone smart as it was clumsily put together. Alongside this, a letter arrived from Howland Reed requesting to foster the whelp but he was too late as he has already gone to the Wall. Please write back as soon as you receive this so I know you've settled in well.

His eyebrows creased as he read it again, trying to peace it all together. Only one thing was certain, Bran was paralysed. Why did Howland send a raven asking to foster Jon? And why in seven hells had Jon gone to the Wall and swore his life away now that he knew he was the rightful heir and he had two live dragon eggs? That was when a certain word stuck out to him- whelp. Why had Catelyn referred to him as such in the letter? Ever since he had told her, she had come to accept the boy but there was still tension between the pair. Had it blown over when he had left? It seemed unlikely. His wife is someone who sucks in her feelings, and Jon is someone who doesn't act on his thoughts unless he has no choice but to. Clearly, this meant she was making sure the letter wouldn't be intercepted. 

Why would she fear interception though? He's missing something, but what? Ned looked around the room before noticing the torch on the wall. He walked over and grabbed one of the candles nearby to create more light. Then he brought it close to the letter, a faint yellow making itself known. He turned the parchment over and hovered the flame underneath so he could see the true message.

Ned, during the assassination attempt on Bran, there was a large fire in the library tower. Robb went to find Jon as his room is in said area to make sure he was okay. When he found him, he said he was clutching the eggs and they were noticeably vibrating. The boy is resistant to fire Ned, he walked into that tower with those eggs and came out unscathed. But it's not the only thing he walked out with. They've hatched, there are two dragons in Winterfell. The situation has become dire now and he suggested writing to Howland to request to stay there under the guise of fostering- but he realised the timing was off. Between us all, we've come to the agreement he cannot stay in Winterfell. His eyes have also changed colour from lilac-grey to bright purple. Howland is on his way to Winterfell right now alongside Jyana, and they are going to take him to the Wall to make it look as though he's taken the black before heading to the Neck via ship from Eastwatch. 

As he read this, he felt his knees beginning to buckle and he grabbed one of the bedposts before scanning it again. They had hatched, there were dragons once again in the world. And his eyes? Yes, they were lilac but mostly looked grey due to the dim lighting in Winterfell, but completely changing colour? What was going on with him? How did he find out he's resistant to fire? What possessed him to walk straight into a tower that was alight? Immediately, he knew he couldn't keep this letter in case someone found it. So, he threw it into the fire and watched as it melted away. He remembered the tale that spread throughout the poorer parts of Wintertown, about there being a hidden dragon underneath the castle. A story that had been around for over two hundred years as it was rumoured Queen Alysanne's dragon Silverwing had lay a clutch of eggs and they were kept in the crypts. If there was any truth to it, there was no evidence of such. No eggs were ever found, but the crypts were multiple levels deep and spanned wider than Winterfell and its Godswood. 

Now there are two living dragons in the walls. With the time it takes a raven to arrive in the capital, Jon would already be on his way to the Wall. But what would he tell Sansa and Arya? He wanted to tell them what had happened, but could he trust them to keep it a secret? Arya knew the basics of what had happened, but Sansa knew the whole picture. A picture she was either ignoring or refusing to believe. Unfortunately, it's a mindset a lot of people will have when the truth comes out, knowing that the war fought was done over a false claim because someone's ego got bruised. 

"My Lord, the first small council meeting shall be held in approximately two hours. I shall come to escort you- "

"I won't need an escort. I have been in the Red Keep before and I remember where the small council chamber is."

The young man opened and closed his mouth a few times before scampering away, his red and gold clothing catching his eye again. Where were the Baratheon men? He thought carefully for a few minutes before deciding he wasn't going to tell them. There's a saying that the walls of the Red Keep have ears, the place crawling with spies and people looking to better themselves. He wasn't going to allow his girls to be in that mess. Sansa was worried enough over the idea that they might hatch when Jon showed what Aemon had gifted him, if she knew they weren't eggs anymore there's no telling what she would do. Then there was Arya, who would undoubtedly run around the castle screaming in excitement. She'd always idolised the female Targaryen's and their dragons- Visenya especially. To her, Jon was practically her reincarnate considering he now had dragons and he wielded her famous sword.

Jaeron X

When they had come to the agreement to come to the Wall first, their intention was to remain for approximately five days before heading towards Eastwatch before catching a ship down south. But upon receiving the news of Benjen, this changed massively. Now, two weeks had passed since they had arrived, and it was clear Howland was out of his depth, but he knew Jon didn't want to leave until he had some news of his uncle. The older man had sent a raven to his wife as she would now be back in Greywater Watch if she stuck to the original plan as well to let her know they would be longer than intended. 

Things were decidedly different at Castle Black than they were the last time he had been here. First off, it seemed a lot colder than previously, and the feeling of being isolated was much more prominent. And word got around quickly regarding who he was and what he had. Ser Alliser swore on his gods that he didn't say a thing, but he didn't suspect Aemon of doing so either. Which meant someone had been spying on their talks. Jeor had also sworn not to tell a soul the truth. However, it made selling the lie a little easier. A week prior after being asked again if it was true, he had snapped and said it outright which he really shouldn't have done. But he'd done it, and he was just lucky there was no one who was simply escorting new recruits. 

They were always sworn to remain neutral and to not meddle with the politics of Westeros, it caused an uneasy truce. Aemon had been delighted about not needing to keep it a secret anymore and a lot of brothers were remarking over how happy he looked now. This only amplified as Lyrax had seemed to attach herself to the elderly man, rarely leaving his lap as he constantly tickled her chin which she loved. It brought a warm feeling to him, but it stung that even if his uncle survived until they had grown to the size to be ridden, he wouldn't be able to due to his frail body. He's one-hundred-and-two name-days, it's a miracle he's lived that long. The only person he knew who was a similar age was Old Nan in Winterfell, and he didn't know for certain just how old she was. 

When the truth got out, there seemed to be a collective hush around him as he walked. Those who were Targaryen loyalists who were banished for refusing to bend the knee to Robert practically bowing at his feet, but he'd put his foot down regarding that. He is a Prince, but hardly anyone knows, so he does not want to be treated as such. Everything will be up in the air at some point, and it's difficult to think of the potential outcomes. But there had been some positives. First, they had received a raven that morning from Torghen Hill stating he would catch the next ship from Pentos but he probably wouldn't arrive for a couple of months as he would need to remain on the low considering he was exiled. Second, he'd made a friend.

Well, friend was putting it nicely. In the numerous talks he'd had with his uncle, he'd gotten to know his new steward as well. Samwell Tarly of Horn Hill. When he heard his surname, he had to stop his eyes from bugging out. This boy's father was a staunch supporter of the Targaryen's and only bent the knee to keep the family alive. But he wasn't what he had expected. Tarly's were known to be warriors, but it was clear he was not. Preferring books to swords, and preferring food to war tactics. Not long after word had spread about Jon was what cemented it. He'd gone to the top of the Wall with Rhaegon perched on his shoulder as there was no need to hide them in the castle anymore to be met with the young man struggling to start a fire. 

At first, he hadn't noticed Jon, but when he did he had jumped so hard the younger was about to grab him to stop him falling. Luckily, it didn't come to that as he breathed hard before eyeing the small dragon he had. It had now been a month since they had hatched, even though it did not feel like that at all. Carefully, he sat down and raised a hand for Rhaegon to climb onto his palm and lower him to the ground, but the silver dragon had other ideas as he curled into his lap much like Lyrax was doing with Aemon. 

"Need help?"

Sam had stuttered a little bit before blushing in embarrassment that he couldn't start the fire himself. A small stream of flame left the small creature and soon they were washed with the gentle heat from the flames. The older immediately began rubbing his hands together to create some heat before seemingly remembering whose company he was in.

"Is it true? What they're saying? That you're Rhaegar Targaryen's son with Lyanna Stark?"

Jon simply looked around him for a few moments, not used to the questions at all.

"Aye, it's true. Didn't even know myself until my sixteenth name-day. No one was more shocked than I was. I thought I was a bastard my whole life, it was a rather large leap."

By now, Rhaegon had gone to sleep which caused him to roll his eyes in annoyance, knowing there was no way he was leaving his lap as the ice they were seated on was too cold for them. He'd found that out when he'd tried to sit Lyrax down only for her to squeal like a child at the temperature. It was times like this that made him forget he was raising two dragons and not two toddlers. They sure acted like it. 

"I can't even imagine what that must've been like. Your uncle never told you Lyanna was your mother?"

"He never even spoke of her. Not to me, not to his wife, not to his own children. The only time I heard anyone talking of her it was that my little sister Arya apparently looks a lot like her. Ironic now that I think about it, as I look a lot like her. Minus the eyes that is, purple eyes aren't a trait of the Stark's."

Silence ensued for a few minutes at this, the older looking to him almost in terror. Whether scared of his reaction, scared of him, or scared of Rhaegon was unknown though. 

"I suppose it's a good thing you inherited your mothers colouring, it would've been difficult if you were born with silver or gold hair like a lot of Targaryen's were. Although, this was probably because of all the incest. No offense intended, my Prince- "

"There's no need for titles Sam. Aye, I'm a Prince, but it's not out yet. I don't want it to get out until these two are large enough to make a statement. When I say that, I don't mean I'm going to burn cities to the ground or burn people alive. I'm not my grandfather. And no offense taken. My uncle always taught me taking offense to a fact is a sign of someone being disconnected from reality and they need a good smack across the face. Well, he didn't say this explicitly in this format, but it's what he meant by it. I know incest was common in my family. I don't necessarily agree with it, but it did happen."

That was when he felt Ghost nudge his side, only remembering now his wolf had come up with him. He was surprised about that, as Ghost hated heights, but he clearly wanted to be beside his owner currently. He was now almost the size of a regular wolf, growing almost as quick as the dragons were. It was nice to have him there, his snow-white fur giving further warmth to him. Sam was shivering a little and he asked him to sit beside him so he could get some heat off the wolf as well. He did so hesitantly, eyeing the sleeping dragon with trepidation.

"He won't harm you, at most you'll get a playful nip from him."

It didn't help much, but he sat down beside him anyway and let out an audible sigh at feeling the warm fur wrapped between the pair. Jon's hands immediately went to the fire and moved a few logs to keep it going as it was going down, something that caused the other boy's eyes to widen massively.

"Did you just?"

All he could do was nod. Demonstrating by leaving his bare palm inside the flames for a few seconds before showing there were no burn marks.

"I don't know how I can do it if that's what you're asking. I thought it may have been a Targaryen trait, but that didn't make sense considering some members of my family have been burned alive or have suffered serious burns beforehand. Hence why my hair is so short. It used to fall to my shoulders, but when these two hatched, I lost it all in the fire apart from a few patches- "

He was cut off as a loud horn echoed. He bit his lip waiting on another one, but it never came, confirming a rider was approaching. He stood up and walked towards the edge, looking down to try and see. He could barely see anything though, being seven hundred feet high. Rhaegon jumped awake at the noise and gave him a quizzical glance and Ghost's ears were perked up in curiosity.

"Can you see anything?"

Jon shook his head before stepping into the lift, with Sam following close behind. It was a tight fit with a wolf, a dragon, and two people, but they made do. Once they were on the ground, he spotted someone helping Aemon down the stairs as the tunnel was opened. Lyrax immediately flew towards Jon and perched on his other shoulder. Then a horse galloped into the courtyard, but there was no rider. Dread seeped into his stomach as he recognised this horse, he had been there when Eddard gifted him it a few years prior on one of his visits down.

"That's my uncle Benjen's horse."

The words left his mouth before anyone else could say anything, a lot of brothers going into a panic at what this meant. Benjen would never leave his faithful companion. A few people walked over and caught the reins to calm the horse down before leading it to the stables to be brushed through and fed. Howland jogged over to him and placed a hand gently on his shoulder, seeing how terrified he was now. He looked around the courtyard, pretending not to notice the numerous looks he was getting in response as they all knew who he was before they landed on Aemon who was now only a few feet from him. 

"What is going on?- "

Jeor was cut off by Samwell.

"Benjen Stark's horse ran in, but he wasn't on it."

The old bear's eyes widened in shock before heading to the stables, Jon following close behind with Ghost at his heels. Those in the way quickly cleared space for them, but it didn't pass Jon's face they were looking to him fearfully. When he found out, he knew this would be a common reaction. It's not uncommon for a son to be like the father, and they obviously thought there was a chance he may be like his grandfather. The horse was rearing and whinnying, indicating it was terrified. But what was it terrified of? Jon walked over to help calm the beast, it calming down just slightly. He noticed that some of his items were still there.

"Don't touch the items. Ghost, can you track the scent boy?"

The wolf's ears perked up at this, it not being known if he understood him. But he went to them and sniffed them before growling in response. This set dread further into his stomach because Ghost never growled at Benjen. Then he was running out of the courtyard towards the tunnel and past the Wall. 

"Will he be able to track it?"

"Aye. He's a direwolf, his senses are much sharper than that of a normal wolf."

As he said these words, he realised he wasn't entirely certain of them. It was unknown to him just how vast the area was north of the Wall. Had he just sent his faithful companion to his death by doing what he did? Hopefully not. Somehow, he had a feeling that he would be alright. 

The first day wasn't too difficult, him preoccupying himself by teaching the dragons commands and sparring with some of the brothers, even showing them a few tricks whilst he was at it. It was a welcome addition, and it was not lost on anyone that Alliser seemed happy for once. It was a strange thing to see on the man's face considering he always had his lips pulled into a tight line as if everything surrounding him insulted him greatly. He'd still never cracked a smile around them, but maybe one day it would happen. Some brothers were probably betting on it happening sometime soon. 

The second day he was taken in by Aemon who tried his best to console him, clearly seeing just how shaken the boy was over what had happened. But no matter how much he tried to get Jon to open to him, he wouldn't speak a word on how he felt. This had caused the elderly man to scowl lightly, him being used to these actions from Rhaegar. He's more like his father than he realises, but he didn't audibly say this. Instead, he decided to distract the boy by telling him stories from his childhood. To running along the beaches with Aegon and Daeron, of Aerion and Daella playing pranks on one another. Jon forgot at times that he had grown up with just as many siblings as he had, and they spoke of the similarities they shared. He didn't have much to say of his youngest sister Rhae though, simply that they weren't overly close but they did love one another. 

The third day was much like the first. It now being apparent that those surrounding him were trying to distract him in case he reacted badly or did something he would regret. He hated being treated like this, like everyone was walking on eggshells around him. But having a famed name and having a grandfather as notorious as he had, they had a right to be wary. Especially because he had dragons and a direwolf. Two literal embodiments of each branch of his family. But it was on the third night that something strange happened. He had been on the makeshift bed in Aemon's room, staring around him to take everything in. But then his eyes flashed, and he felt a jarring pain in his lower stomach. He lifted his shirt only to see there was nothing there. Before he knew it, the scenery switched to something else entirely.

He could feel the snow beneath him, could feel more of the stuff falling and landing on his thick white fur. His ears perking around to try and pick up sounds. There wasn't much around him other than white and numerous mountains, alongside the occasional river and stream. A rustling caught his attention and he bounded over towards whatever it was, quickly biting into the rabbit's neck so it died instantly before diving in. It didn't do much in satisfying his hunger, but it was better than nothing. Trotting further into the wilderness proved to be difficult as it was even colder than it was at the Wall. How anyone could live out in these temperatures was just strange. 

That was when he caught the scent. It was faint, but it was there. Carefully, he made his way towards it only to come to a large clearing surrounded by trees. The shade creating an ominous feeling in the area. The scent was stronger now. The scent of people, death, food, and blood. He pawed away at the snow and his assumption was proved correct as he spotted red staining the white snow, confirming someone had died here, and it was recent. His sensitive nose picking up on this. He sniffed it a few times and began to follow the trace, approximately ten minutes later he got his answer. 

Two bodies on the ground, the scent from their clothing confirming they had been black brothers. He recognised one of them from the last time he had visited, and he'd heard people talk about how he had gone missing alongside Benjen. But there wasn't a third body, confirming the Stark had either gotten away or they had gotten separated. He sniffed them closer, confused that there was no scent of decay or even the scent of death on them, but the blood on the ground confirmed they had been dead for a while as it was beginning to smell rotten. 

Jon awoke with a start, his face covered in sweat and his breathing haggard. Once he'd gotten control of his breathing, he noticed Howland, Aemon, and Samwell were giving him quizzical glances. Then the taste of blood and raw meat entered his mouth as he scrambled to rid himself of the taste. Did he just dream he was Ghost? That had never happened before, or not like this. He'd dreamt he was with Ghost hunting before, but never where he was Ghost. 

"Jaeron?"

Eventually, the taste began to disappear and he eyed them all oddly. But it was when his eyes connected with Howland that something clicked into place. 

"It's nothing- "

"It's not nothing, you were growling. You sounded like your wolf."

Aemon was worried for him, and it was obvious Lyrax was worried too as she flew down from her perch to snuggle into him, Rhaegon following close behind her. He knew he was going to have to tell them. He braced himself for the questions and statements that he was going mad.

"Ever since I got Ghost, I've been having these dreams I suppose you could say. Dreaming of being with him when he's been hunting. But this time- this time I was Ghost. From the scenery it was clearly north of the Wall, he killed a rabbit that he ate, and he found two bodies of the two rangers who went with Benjen. No sight of him though- "

"You're a warg."

Howland's stunned response broke his rambling, confusion setting in. What was a warg? What did that even mean?

"I thought that was a myth."

Now it was Sam who spoke, and Aemon was looking between the pair, trying to take in what they were saying. 

"It's incredibly rare. It's assumed there's only a couple thousand of us left. Clearly his bond with Ghost runs a lot deeper than he thought. It's more common in the Neck than elsewhere, a gift that's been passed down thousands of years, something that was in the blood of the First Men. Did you taste the flesh when Ghost killed the rabbit, Jaeron?"

The words were spinning around in his head but he nodded anyway, knowing there was no use in lying to either of them.

"Well, it's an even better thing you're coming with me then. I'm one as well, as is my son Jojen. We can train you to control it. The animal I could do it with is unfortunately dead, but I can still help you with it. If you gain full control of it, you'll be able to enter Ghost's mind whenever you want."

His eyebrows furrowed in the centre of his forehead at these words, the thought not processing for some reason with him. Did this mean all the Stark kids were like this?

"My siblings have also been having said dreams. I'm unsure about Rickon as he's so little but the others do."

Now, Howland's eyes opened massively before asking to borrow some parchment from Aemon so he could write to Ned and Catelyn to let them know of what may be happening. There was no use in using the lemon water trick Jaeron had told him of on their way to Castle Black considering it wasn't wholly sensitive information. Simply stating to keep an eye on the kids in case they have more of these dreams. 

"Did he seem far out?"

Jon shook his head.

"I could see the Wall on the horizon, the Haunted Forest looked to be an hour or so away."

"I'll alert Jeor right now to prepare men- "

"Don't Sam. If what I saw is happening, the brothers were dead. Ghost will drag the bodies back. He should be here tomorrow at the latest."

The other boy gulped at this, fear setting in for them at what this meant. Something had happened, and it wasn't anything good. The other horses came back weeks ago but without their riders. Meaning they had run off, possibly meaning Benjen's horse had run back as a warning of some kind. He couldn't say this for certain though considering there was no way to truly know the intelligence of an animal. 

"We'll just need to wait on the wolf getting back with the bodies before we do anything else. That's the smartest thing we can do."

All agreed with this, not all agreeing with it but knowing it was the only option they had. The day went on as normal, neither of them saying what had happened other than telling Jeor. The news had rattled him, but he decided to go with what they were saying. They wouldn't be able to prove anything without the wolf. Jon sparred with a few people trying their luck and striking common ground with a boy named Pyper- although everyone called him Pyp for short. A lowborn boy who didn't understand the complexity of politics or what his name meant other than he was a Prince. It was a nice change for him, reminding him that it's not just those with titles he would be taking care of if he succeeds when the time comes. 

"Open the tunnel! I can see the wolf!"

Jon's eyes widened at this before sheathing his sword and walking into the courtyard. That knot in his stomach tightened as like he expected, he was dragging two bodies with him. Once the tunnel was sealed, the wolf ran over and jumped up so his front paws were on either shoulder, licking him right across the face. He scratched behind his ear and coaxed him down so they could see who it was. It was them all right, confirming he had seen inside Ghost's mind like he was one with the wolf. 

"It's definitely them alright, and they've been dead a while with the frozen fingers."

"Are you sure about that, Lord Commander? There's no smell coming from them. If they'd been dead a while, surely they would be decaying too?"

Jeor bristled a little at the words before realising what Samwell was saying had merit. All bodies begin to decay from the moment the heart stops working, but there was none on them. If it weren't for the ice covering parts of them and the blue tinge to their skin, they could've passed as simply being asleep. 

"You may be a coward Tarly, but you're certainly not stupid. Help me get the bodies to one of the spare rooms. It is late, Maester Aemon can examine them in the morning."


	13. XII

Jaeron XI

Something didn't sit right with Jon at Jeor's words. It was rare he ever felt uncomfortable as he'd been spurned for most of his life. He knew what it felt like to be looked down on for something that was out his own control. Even whenever he fell and hurt himself he didn't feel uncomfortable. But there was no denying it. Something about these bodies wasn't right, and it tied his stomach in knots as he looked down upon them. Sam's words ringing in his ears. The older knew what he was talking about, and this surprised Jon that no one else had said the words he'd spoken. Immediately, he walked over to Ghost to check him over for any injuries, only scratching his ear fondly when he realised there seemed to be none.

All bodies stink of rot, but the only scent there was in the courtyard was smoke, mould, sweat, and something else he couldn't put his finger on. He'd never experienced the stench of rot before on a person, but from words spoken in Winterfell, he knew it was horrendous. Still, a few brothers stepped forward to grab the bodies to take them to a spare room. This thought calmed him down somewhat, as he didn't want to leave Aemon alone in a room with two bodies. The man has probably seen hundreds of them, but the terrible sense of foreboding just would not go away no matter how hard he tried.

"You'd best get to sleep, Jaeron. You're going to need a lot of that considering we will be leaving for Eastwatch in three days."

This caused the younger to close his eyes and nod in acceptance. He wanted to stay until they had concrete news on Benjen, but that would hinder their plan. No misstep can be carried out at all. They've already stalled long enough. He followed Aemon upon hearing Howland's words, his elderly uncle giving him a curious stare. Despite him being blind for almost three decades now, somehow he just seemed to know everything that was going on around him. He left the door open just enough for Rhaegon and Lyrax to fly in, the blue one immediately to land on Aemon's shoulder and the silver one on Jon's. They'd only started flying a few days beforehand, and they couldn't do so for long periods of time. Them now being about the size of dogs. For creatures that had been barely the size of kittens a month prior, their growth rate was shocking to him. If they continued growing this quickly, he suspected they would be rivalling hunting dogs in the next month. 

"Aemon, how long does it take for a dragon to be large enough to mount?"

The question echoed throughout the room, reminding the pair of just how cut off they were from everyone else in the castle. Aemon's quarters were in the opposite tower from Jeor's, and most rooms nearby him were practically a ruin now. Much of the Nights Watch was a ruin now, only three of nineteen castles were manned and occupied, and they weren't occupied by many. Castle Black had approximately five hundred, Eastwatch three hundred, and the Shadowtower had a little over one hundred. 

"It's difficult to say, because all dragons grow at different rates."

Jon's eyebrow quirked at this before sitting down at the desk as Aemon stood up to grab a small book from one of the shelves. He placed it down in front of them and the younger realised it was written in High Valyrian, the language of their ancestors and most Targaryen's mother tongue. 

"I had Samwell transcribe this just before you arrived. It documents all dragons our family had, who their rider was, their colouring, when they were hatched, and when their rider mounted them. I know you're still learning the language, but it may be useful for you. There isn't a ridden date for Balerion for obvious reasons considering he was hatched in Valyria unlike the others."

He took the small book carefully and opened it to read into it.

Balerion. Kipagon ondoso se Aegon, Aerea, Maegor, se Viserys. Mele se zōbrie. Āzma isse Valyrio 114BC. Ēlī jēdar kipagon daor bardutan. Morghūltan 94AC isse se zaldrīzes ripo hen uēpa gūena. (Balerion. Ridden by Aegon, Aerea, Maegor, and Viserys. Red and black. Hatched in Valyria approximately 114BC. First ridden date unknown. Died 94 AC in the Dragon Pit from old age.)

Meraxes. Kipagon ondoso Rhaenys. Timpa, gēlenka, se aēksion. Āzma va zaldrīzesdōron isse se gār hen ānogar. Ēlī kipagon mirri jēda iemny tōma jēdri hen āzma. Morghūltan 10AC hen nykeā hīlagon isse se laes ry Hellholt.  
(Meraxes. Ridden by Rhaenys. White, silver, and gold. Hatched on Dragonstone during the century of blood. First ridden some time the first five years of hatching. Died 10AC from a scorpion bolt to the eye.)

As he went further down the line, his eyes widened as he realised they were being ridden earlier as time went on. Moondancer and Morning both being ridden within two years of hatching. Aemon handed over a second book now, this one being completely tattered and would probably fall apart if it were dropped on the ground to open it. This one clearly being the original book before Samwell had transcribed it. This one had paintings beside each dragon's description of what they had looked like. And considering how old it was and the faded text, the people who had painted them may have seen them in real life. 

"It seems to be within a couple of years that they can be ridden."

Aemon chuckled softly at these words before quirking an eyebrow at the younger.

"Not necessarily, that's the obvious answer. Just because that was when they were first ridden doesn't mean it was the first time they could be ridden."

Jon's face contorted in on itself at these words, trying to make sense of them. It took a few moments but they eventually did, and his eyes widened in understanding. 

"Do you think they could've been mounted sooner?"

"It's very possible. I don't know for certain because they all died out around fifty years before I was even born. The only person who was alive in the family who had seen them was Daeron. But I was a few years old at the time and cannot remember him. I can remember his booming voice, but that is about it. Even to Targaryen's, dragons are a mystery. Why did they only ever allow one person to ride them until said person was dead? Why once mounted did their flames change to the colour of their scales as opposed to orange? Why did they never stop growing? They're questions that even the most experienced Maester's cannot answer nephew, and we must make do with the thought that there will not be answers for everything. Simply assumptions that can be made."

The silence that followed was almost deafening, the elderly man's words soaking into him the way syrup soaks into a freshly baked cake. If the assumption he was making were true and either Rhaegon or Lyrax could be mounted earlier than a couple of years, how long would he be able to keep it a secret for? The best thing he can do is to be the one to leak the information himself, because then it isn't simply rumour. But he could also play the rumour card well as most people would brush it off and ignore him until it was too late. Gods, he wished he had Robb with him to discuss this with. The older boy could weave through war tactics as well as Sansa could sew a dress. 

"You lived in Kings Landing didn't you?"

Aemon looked outside for a few moments, Lyrax carefully climbing up his front to perch on his shoulder and tuck herself into his neck. The sight made him smile deeply, it being clear she was incredibly protective over him. 

"Aye, I did. Not for long though and I don't remember it very much I must say. The only thing I can really remember is the gardens inside the walls as I used to race my sister Daella through them when we were babes ourselves. Something our mother despised and our father found hilarious. But I spent much of my life on Dragonstone. I was the Maester there after I completed training before being relocated to here. I'd sometimes take a ship across the Blackwater and surprised my brother, but it was rare I did so."

From the way his voice trailed off at the end, it was obvious that he missed his siblings deeply. All were dead, and it was probably a bitter pill to swallow that his little brother had started the dreadful fire in Summerhall which took most of their lives away. His father was born during that, Rhaella being rescued as it blazed on and the stress of everything starting her labour. And it all happened because dragon eggs were in the castle that he was trying desperately to hatch. And his brother Aerion died drinking wildfire thinking it would turn him into a dragon. It was said his screams could still be heard in the ruins of the castle they called their vacation spot to this day. Well, according to Old Nan anyway. 

"Uncle, I'm going to press on my claim. I'm not going to do so until Rhaegon and Lyrax can cause damage though so it won't be for some time yet. But when I do, what advice would you give? And who could I trust?"

He watched intently as the elderly man's face contorted in on itself at the thought. He probably knew he was planning on doing so, but hearing it spoken aloud only brought it to light. They've gotten close to one another over the last few months, sending ravens to one another every other day with updates. It was nice to have that again, especially because he'd heard that Viserys had sold Daenerys to a Dothraki Khal. A stupid move in most people's eyes, a move that wouldn't do anything because Dothraki would not cross the Narrow Sea as they believed it to be poisoned as their horses could not drink the water. Clearly someone was spying on them, but there was no way to say who it was exactly. He wasn't going to try and send a raven so far east because it may be considered an act of rebellion.

"Everyone in Kings Landing is a liar, Jaeron. That is the first thing to keep in your head. The place is filled with people scheming from all corners trying to better their families and their own names. People who will stop at nothing to do so. Whilst I didn't spend a lot of time in Kings Landing, I did know it rather well. I'm going to tell you what I told my brother when he became King. Don't trust anyone. Keep those closest to you who are the least likely to betray you and keep those who are most likely to far away. But not too far that it is obvious that you distrust them. You'll need to learn the art of subtlety."

If what Aemon was saying was true, how was he going to go about making alliances? Alliances are all about getting to a point that you trust one another not to turn on the other. But if this were the case, there would never be any wars, the realm would be at peace, there would be no need to remain subtle or to keep extra eyes for any conspiracies. 

"Who would be the most likely to fall behind me when it happens? My aunt believes we have a fair chance of getting the reach through the Tyrell's, and naturally I'll have the North and the Riverlands through family bonds. But the others?"

"Isn't your aunt's sister an Arryn? Should you not get the Vale through her if Robb declares for you alongside Eddard?"

His lips tightened as he remembered the words Catelyn had said to him. 

"It's a possibility, and it is what honour demands, but my aunt doubts it. She knows her sister, and how much she despises bloodshed. If she can stay out of a war, she will do all she can to stay out of it. Apparently her son is sickly and if my aunt is correct, is still suckling at his mother's teat despite being ten name-days."

The thought sent a shiver through Jon, the idea disgusting him greatly. It was obvious that Lysa was not going to let anyone near her boy who may potentially cause him harm. Understandable considering her husband was potentially murdered by the Lannister's. There's no concrete evidence that he was poisoned, but like Catelyn said, it was one hell of a coincidence. One too big to be overlooked. Hopefully, his father doesn't go poking around too much because if he is caught out or says something, it's instant death for him and possibly for Sansa and Arya too.

"Like you said, you'll have the North and the Riverlands backing you due to familial ties. But you need to take into consideration that not all houses will heed the call, a risk that would end in them being labelled as traitors for refusing their liege Lord's command. I'll admit, I don't know the Northern houses much. It isn't in my area of expertise. But there are two houses that will without question declare for you who aren't in either of these Kingdoms. The Celtigar's of Claw Isle and the Velaryon's of Driftmark."

This piqued his interest as he looked at the Maester intently. He'd heard the names before, but they were minor houses. And if he remembered correctly they were in the Crownlands and were close to Dragonstone. 

"They're the only two other families that we know for certain survived the doom of Valyria. The Celtigar's came out here first due to some issue with one Dragonlord family, about a decade later the Velaryon's arrived. A few months after this Aenar arrived on Dragonstone. Granted, Lord Ardrian Celtigar is elderly and has no legitimate sons, but the man is loyal. The other house though, they are bound in numerous ways. Multiple intermarriages going back hundreds of years, multiple heirs, and their loyalty is something you want to keep on hand. Especially because of their fleet. Only the Manderly's, Lannister's, the Ironborn, and the Arryn's of Gulltown can rival."

"Two fleets would certainly be useful. One could be used to defend and one could be used to attack."

Aemon hummed a little at these words, eyeing Jon inquisitively with his milky white iris'. 

"It's a good strategy. The Ironborn's ships are made for war, the Lannister's are made for defence and trade considering Lannisport is a port city. The Manderly's are built for long distance as they regularly travel to Essos for trade with the Free Cities. The Velaryon's however don't divide their fleet like the Lannister's do. They build their ships for everything. War, trade, long distance travel, one of their ships will do all of that."

He made a mental note at this, needing to look up the two houses that had been spoken now. 

"Let me give you some extra advice before you go to sleep. Eventually, you will need to understand that it's better to have an honourable enemy than a dishonourable friend. That's where most people fail. Aerys did that by trusting Tywin was coming to save him but he instead sacked the city and killed Elia, Aegon, and Rhaenys. At least an honourable enemy is less likely to stab you in the back. Assume that everyone wants you dead because honestly, they will. When the truth comes out. It's not going to be taken lightly by anyone. If you constantly think that everyone will assassinate you, you'll never be caught off guard."

With these words spoken, Aemon took the books and placed them back on the shelf he'd gotten them from before heading to his own room. Jon's head felt like it was about to explode at the realisations that had just been bestowed upon him. Now he knew why his father trusted him so much and why he sought out counsel from him often. It wasn't solely because it would be unbiased, it was because he wasn't afraid to say it as it is. Not many people are like that, and it was a breath of fresh air for him. There were a few more months until it was the next year. If Aemon's suspicion was correct and dragons could be mounted earlier, this meant there was a distinct possibility that by the end of the coming year the secret will be out. He would have to learn quickly. With that, he made his way to the makeshift bed he had been sleeping on but sleep did not come. His mind was alight with everything that had been said, 

It was a few hours later that he was woken by Ghost pressing his wet nose against his cheek and making a whimpering sound. Confusion ran through him at this as he petted the wolf trying to calm him down, but it didn't do anything. Looking around the room for anything that was out of the ordinary but everything was as it was. It was also pitch black outside confirming the early hour. Ghost never woke him up at this time. In fact, he never woke him up unless it was time for everyone in Winterfell to be awake. Removing the thin blanket caused him to shiver at just how cold it was up here. With everything that had been going on, it was easy to ignore the temperature but right now he couldn't do just that. The wolf beginning to stamp his paws almost in fear. 

Hesitantly, Jon got up from the bed and listened carefully, nothing catching his attention as odd. Unless the few squawking ravens were anything to go by. He paused at this, because the ravens had never made a sound like that the times he had been around them. Clearly something was setting them on edge much like Ghost was. He bent down to grab his sword, strapping it to his waist, not bothering to attach the hilt cover Mikken had made. No one would be awake apart from perhaps a cook or two. The wolf began padding down the tower into the courtyard, his steps timid and cautious, confirming something was happening. Once outside, the biting wind made his teeth clench together and start chattering. He thought he knew cold in Winterfell considering his room was one of few that wasn't situated close to a hot spring, but this was a new cold. One that burned the skin almost. 

The courtyard was completely deserted, only making this place seem even lonelier than it already was. The Night's Watch was so cut off from everything else in Westeros considering everyone here is sworn to neutrality when it comes to politics and war. Confusion spurned in him as Ghost headed towards the Lord Commander's tower. Dread seeped in deep at this, the wolf was a smart animal. An incredibly smart animal. Clearly he sensed something was off, but what exactly was off? His hand curling around the hilt of the sword and pulling it from its sheath quietly, barely making a sound. Slowly, he made his way up, looking around every corner for any sign of whatever Ghost was sensing. Eventually, he opened the door to Jeor's quarters and sighed deeply at the fact it was empty. Still, he walked inside and looked around a few times in case he was missing something.

A door slamming shut behind him caught his attention, almost causing him to drop his sword in surprise. Nothing was behind him, and he cursed lowly at realising he had made the stupid mistake of not covering his back. He turned around and at first he didn't see it due to how dark it was. But then he saw bright blue eyes, brighter than the blue of the winter roses that grew in Winterfell's glass gardens. Burning deep into him and practically glowing in the dark. A few heavy footsteps later brought the person into his line of vision, and his mouth dropped in shock. It was one of the bodies that Ghost had brought back. 

How?

He didn't have time to think as it launched for him, quickly dodging out of the way but landing a powerful punch to his gut, but this didn't seem to stop the wight. He remembered Old Nan's tales now, of walking dead men coming in the dead of night. That's what this was. A rustling from behind didn't break his attention as he thrust the sword at it, but it seemed to know what he was doing and was dodging every swing with ease. Swearing lightly under his breath, he grabbed a spare knife on a desk and used their proximity to try and land a wound on the wight. He thrust the blade hard into its stomach, and nothing happened. His eyes widened in complete fear now and from the corner of his eye he spotted Jeor staring with a slack jaw. Then he swung the blade up and managed to slice its arm off, but even this didn't stop it.

It was too close to him now to use the sword, and he cursed himself for not being on high alert the second Ghost woke him up whimpering. He'd commanded the wolf to stay outside in the corridor, and it was clear he was distressed as he was clawing at the door and howling deeply. He had to create space between them to land a hit. His eyes darted around the room for something to use to do just that. Grabbing hold of the desk, and throwing it over, ignoring the strewn paperwork. But it had the desired effect, creating about a metre distance between them. As it came for him, he had enough time to prepare and he swung the sword at the wight. It dodged the first few swings, but then one cut below the ribcage, and with a strong thrust, it was protruding out of its back. The wight gave a loud screech before falling limp to the ground. 

His breath coming short and fast and his eyes probably wider than Arya's had been when he gifted her Needle, he pulled the sword free, grimacing at the blackened blood covering the dark steel and blue ripples. He cleaned it off on a piece of cloth as Jeor shakily walked towards him, eyeing the wight himself with a look he'd never saw on him. Complete fear, and he was sure his face was showing a similar expression. 

"Burn the bodies now. This cannot wait until morning."

Jon nodded at his words and grabbed the creature, dragging it out into the courtyard before doing the same with the other body. He wasn't going to take chances with that one coming back either. A few brothers had woken up, clearly sensing the commotion that was happening but none were saying anything. Rhaegon flew over to him and with a single word, the bodies were alight. The smell was horrible, and it burned in his nostrils and lungs, but it had to be done. Samwell walked over and with a look at the opposite end of the courtyard, saw Aemon with a worried look.

"What happened?"

By now, Jon was shaking in fear but Jeor cut in for him.

"We found out why they weren't smelling of anything. They were wights- "

"Wights have been gone for eight thousand years Lord Commander- "

Jeor shot a look at the brother who had said that.

"I thought so too. But if it weren't for Jaeron, that thing would've got me. How did you know anyway?"

He simply looked to his wolf and that was all the explanation needed. It was only now that Samwell and Jeor noticed the sword Jon was carrying, their eyes widening in surprise. But he left no room to question as he sheathed it quickly, staring at the flames to make sure the bodies were completely gone. Only then would he feel safer. 

By now, most brothers were awake. Clearly hearing the commotion and from the smell and the fire, standing around the courtyard and on the raised areas. Just looking down, watching the scene play out in front of them. A few minutes later, the pyre had burned out and there were only blackened marks on the ground that was previously covered in snow. It wasn't long until Howland appeared, walking over slowly as if he feared they would come back again. Normally his greensight gave him some preparation for big events, the most recent being a wolf inside a cage with lions watching. He hadn't told anyone about that one other than Jojen as he'd had similar visions. Not wanting to know what it may potentially mean. 

"They're dead, there's nothing left."

An audible breath left the older man as he looked at the charred stone. Of course, he'd heard the stories. Of how the Children and the First Men signed a pact to end their animosity to work together to defeat the others. That someone who was coined Azor Ahai with a flaming sword that was forged specially and how he was only able to do it by sacrificing his wife. But they were supposedly killed off. But that didn't make sense. Bran the Builder built the Wall around that time, and something of this size was surely not built to keep Wildling's out of Westeros. A couple of hundred feet perhaps, but the structure was seven hundred feet, and was said to be reinforced with a spell from the Children to prevent it from ever melting.

"Ser Alliser, Jaeron cut the arm off one. Check and see if it is still in my room."

The Master-at-arms nodded at the command and disappeared into his tower to search. Emerging a minute later with a wriggling arm. Those who hadn't seen the commotion staring at it in complete horror. Jeor took it and examined it, there was no way to deny what this was. The bones, the blackened blood, the veins, and arteries hanging out. A gruesome sight, there was no denying that.

"Find something to put this in, we will need it as evidence. You will ride to Eastwatch with Howland and Jaeron Ser Alliser and take a ship down to Kings Landing to present this to King Robert. I'll write the ravens and will have Aemon send them in the next couple of days."

Despite there being no audible dismissal, it was clear he was doing so. Brothers went to change clothes to start their days as there was no way anyone was getting back to sleep with what had just happened. Shakily, Jon made his way towards Aemon who was giving him a concerned look. Namely the mark across his face that was bleeding. It was only when he touched it that he realised he'd been hurt. Knowing there was no way to avoid it, he followed him into his own quarters with Samwell trailing behind so he could examine the cut. It didn't look deep, as there wasn't a lot of blood, but he had to make sure. 

Jon watched as the older boy grabbed a few things and reassuring Aemon he wasn't badly hurt, it just looked like a surface wound. It didn't do much to calm the elderly man, but how quickly he was mixing things together confirmed he had knowledge of this. Jon quirked an eyebrow at this.

"My mother Melessa is more than used to dealing with surface wounds from my brother Dickon and sister Talla as they're always getting into trouble. Instead of waiting for Maester's to come, she would tend to us herself with small cuts. She's good at it, and she showed me how to do so in case she had to be away from Horn Hill for any reason."

That answered the question. Samwell grabbed a thin cloth, dipping it in warm water and wrapping it tightly around one of his fingers before beginning to dab away at the gash to clean away the blood. Luckily, it was already beginning to scab over, confirming it wasn't anything serious. Peering closer, it was obvious the wound in question was only a few millimetres deep, therefore did not need stitches. Then he took a fresh cloth and dipped it in whatever he had mixed up and ran it along, the sting it brought causing the younger to wince slightly at how uncomfortable it was. Finally, a small bandage was placed over and stuck in place with something and being told to keep it on for at least two days to ensure it scabs over. 

"Your father is Randyll, isn't he?"

The older nodded in confirmation as he told Aemon what he had done, the elderly man smiling deeply and gripping his hand softly in thanks. 

"He was the only person who beat Robert Baratheon in battle during it, correct? He was a staunch supporter of my father."

"He still is. He talks very highly of your father even now. He wanted me to turn around like he did and make a man of myself, but instead all I seem to do is shame him. Hence why I came here. My brother is now the heir of Horn Hill."

A small pit of fury ebbed deep inside of him. He knew what it was like to feel shamed constantly for being what he was. Yes, he and Catelyn were on much better terms than he'd ever hoped for, but he knew he would never see her as a mother figure because she never was to him. She'd treated him horribly for most of his life, and he was understandably wary of her. But then the last line came into perspective. His brother is now the heir, which could only mean Sam was the firstborn son. Why would a high Lord stand for his firstborn being sent to the Wall? 

"Why are you here, Sam? If you're the firstborn?"

The older froze momentarily before looking down at the gaze being directed at him. It was silent for a few moments before he finally opened his mouth.

"I shamed my father by not being able to use a sword or shoot a bow or throw a knife like what was expected of me as a Tarly. He wanted to take me hunting and hawking, whereas I wanted to study and travel. He's always resented me. Well, on the morning of my eighteenth name-day, he took me aside one morning and basically told me he would never allow a fat craven to take over as Lord of Horn Hill whilst he was around. And if I didn't leave for the Wall immediately he would take me on a hunt and make sure I didn't come back."

Both Jon and Aemon recoiled back in horror at these words. The younger had intended to use his new friend's familial link to get an ally for when the time comes, but now he did not want the Tarly man. He had threatened to kill his son if he didn't come here?

"Have you already spoken your vows? If you want to study you could always go to the Citadel- "

"No, I cannot. It's too risky. The Maester's take note of all the acolyte's and do background checks on them all. If they saw someone with the Tarly name, they would report to the Hightower's as they're in control of Oldtown where the Citadel is. My father would find out and never allow it. Plus, I have now spoken my vows. If I leave, I'd imagine it would be your uncle who would take my head- "

"Cousin actually, Robb is acting Lord of Winterfell whilst my uncle is in Kings Landing serving as Robert Baratheon's hand."

Pity filled him as he looked at the older boy. He knew then, he was going to do all he could to ensure his father would not get him. However, he could use the next couple of days to take note of the Reach.

"Tell me about the Houses of the Reach, and which ones I would be able to rely on. I'd imagine you knew who was loyal to my father from your own father."

Sam once again, nodded in agreement before asking Aemon for some parchment so he could write them all down. 

"Naturally, the obvious one is the Tyrell's as they are Lord and Lady Paramount's. However, other loyalist Houses may take offense to that- my father certainly did- over the fact they didn't participate other than set up a siege with their entire army. Hightower is probably your next best bet, but it would be risky considering the history between them and your house."

Jon tightened his lips at this.

"Alicent wanting her son Aegon to be King and crowning him despite her husband naming his daughter Rhaenyra as his heir, with Otto working in their favour. Thus, essentially causing the Dance of Dragons."

Sam was writing furiously on the parchment, trying to figure out who was the most likely. 

"If things go sour with them, I'd say the best bet would probably be the Florent's, Beesbury's, or the Redwyne's. But I doubt you'd get the Florent's as Selyse is married to Stannis Baratheon with a daughter."

"A daughter who had greyscale as a baby- "

"A daughter, nonetheless. Through familial bonds they would be bound to support their own blood. Samwell makes a good point. I'd say Tyrell's, Redwyne's, Hightower's, and Beesbury's are your best bet. There are other Houses in said Kingdom, but they aren't as big a name as these ones. Samwell, on my shelf you'll find a volume of all heirs along with Lords and Ladies of said Houses. Take a note of them for him please before he leaves so he has somewhere to start."

This stunned Jon now; his uncle was bound by oath to remain neutral. Yet by telling his steward to take a note of all members of said Houses, he was essentially breaking that. Beforehand they weren't, as they were simply answering his question. A few minutes later and Sam handed over the parchment with the Houses and stated he would have the other one ready by tomorrow for him. He thanked him for this, knowing it would be a good step to start from. 

The next three days didn't change much to the other days. Unfortunately, there had still not been any word or sightings regarding Benjen, and it hurt massively when Jeor marked in one of his books that he was presumed dead. Howland took it upon himself to begin training him how to warg, him still not fully knowing what that meant other than he could see through Ghost's eyes like he was the wolf. It hadn't happened since that night he woke up with the taste of blood and raw meat in his mouth. Every time he tried though; he couldn't make the connection needed with his wolf. 

"That's common. It happens randomly the first few times. I'd say within a few months you'll be able to control it to the point you do so without even thinking."

He doubted that, but he didn't want to say so to Howland's face. The man has risked so much for him, had helped his uncle commit high treason against the King to make sure he survived. 

"Do your children know about me? And how old are they?"

They were walking around one of the many wooden balconies that made up Castle Black, making use of the time they had to themselves as there were a few ranging parties sent out and the builders were temporarily sent to the Shadowtower to help rebuild some parts. 

"Jyana told them after she got back to Greywater Watch so they wouldn't be surprised. My son is named Jojen, and he is nearing his fourteenth name-day. My daughter Meera is seventeen, a little under a year older than you and Robb are."

From their numerous conversations, he knew that Meera was skilled with weaponry, which meant he would have a sparring partner at least. Well, until this Torghen Hill can make it there which will probably be a couple of months. The man was living in exile, if it got out he was back in Westeros- he would be executed. And Jojen was something called a greenseer, which Howland was as well. He thought this was much the same as warging but the older man put it into perspective easily. All greenseer's are wargs, but not all wargs are greenseer's. Apparently less than a thousand existed in the North, but he did suspect there would be a few Wildling's who had this strange gift too. 

"Jaeron, meet me in my solar after breaking your fast."

Jeor said the words with a commanding tone which confirmed he was not taking no for an answer. What did he want? There was no use in questioning it though as clearly he wanted it to be a private discussion. He was still getting a few strange looks by the brothers, but it was nowhere near as bad as it was when he'd blurted it out in anger. Jon wished he hadn't done that; it was a stupid thing to do. But he'd done it, and he couldn't turn back time. Both he and Howland broke their fast on pork sausages that had almost no fat in them and didn't have much flavour as a result, a couple of eggs, and a slice of slightly stale bread. But it was food, not many people would argue with what they were being given. 

"You asked to speak to me, Lord Commander?"

"Aye, sit down lad."

Jon did just that, not bothering to remove Rhaegon's claws from his shoulders. It wasn't hurting him, but it was uncomfortable. A bit like a prolonged cat scratch. A feeling he knew well as there was a runaway stray in the servant's quarters near his old bedroom in Winterfell that hated everyone it passed and made it known. It was only Arya who seemed to be able to tame it somewhat. The desk was filled with multiple pieces of paperwork alongside a few trinkets. But what caught his eye was the sword leaning against the wood. Jeor unsheathed it and his eyes widened at seeing the dark steel and the pale blue ripples confirming it was Valyrian steel.

"Longclaw. It's been in my family for hundreds of years. Passed down from Lord to son the entire time like most families do who own one. It was Bear Island's glory. We don't have much there, only a lot of trees and rare fish that you only get in the far north. I was supposed to give this to my son Jorah, but he dishonoured himself, me, and our House by selling poachers to a Tyroshi slaver. He escaped in the middle of the night for somewhere in Essos with his wife Lynesse Hightower before your uncle made it to our home."

Mentally, Jon was deflated at this. He was going to try and get the Hightower's, yet one of their own was in exile due to his uncle. That may be a blow that will prevent them coming into the fold on his side. He would need to send a raven to Catelyn to get her insight on it as she is well versed in southern politics.

"I'm an elderly man, seventy name-days. I cannot use the sword anymore, and I'm not giving it to someone here. I cannot give it to my son due to the shame he brought on our family. Take it with you when you ride for Eastwatch this afternoon."

His head snapped around at this, looking at the older man as if he were expecting him to say he was joking. But from his stern expression, he knew he was telling the truth.

"It's Valyrian steel, and it's been in your family for generations- "

"My sister Maege refuses to go near it, she believes only a male should wield such a sword even though she and her own daughters are trained fighters. Bear Island is known for its warrior women, my family being no exception to this except little Lyanna as she is only nine. We don't train our females until they are twelve. They've all sworn the times they've visited they will not take Longclaw and it should be handed over to someone worthy of it. You saved my life three days ago, Jaeron. If your wolf didn't alert you, who knows what would've happened. That thing would likely have gone on a rampage, but you stopped it even though you struggled for a couple of minutes. I had the pommel changed to a wolf, for your wolf. Take it."

Hesitantly, he took the hilt and tested the weight of the weapon. Examining it further confirmed it was a bastard sword and not a longsword like Dark Sister. Meant for closer range swings which would probably come in useful. It was also light in his palm; the lost material being known for how lightweight it was. 

"Thank you. If you ever need anything in return- "

"All I ask is if you win, to ensure we are manned enough and that we have enough food to get through winter."

It was a simple request, and he shook hands with him to solidify said agreement before meeting Howland outside at the stables.Their horses were already tacked up and ready to leave, and with great difficulty he had managed to get Rhaegon and Lyrax into the boxes again, something which made Aemon laugh merrily and Sam to snort in laughter. This might be the last time they were ever in captivity, a thought that terrified him massively. But there was no turning back now. The initial moves had been made, now he must learn as he goes and he must learn quickly. Ser Alliser made his way over and took a horse himself, the box he had containing the still wriggling hand of the wight as they could hear it moving around inside the wood. With that, he said goodbye to those he'd gotten somewhat close to in the past fortnight before mounting his horse and riding out. If the weather were good, they would be at Eastwatch in three days.


	14. XIII.

Jaeron XII

It took them four days to ride to Eastwatch. They made good on the first two days but on the third there came a snowstorm so strong it obscured their vision completely. Even to the point they couldn't even see the shadow of the Wall on the snow-covered ground to use it as a guide. They travelled for approximately an hour that day before deciding it was too treacherous to continue. The only one who could've guided them was Ser Alliser, and even he stated it was too dangerous to do so. And he was not a man who admitted defeat. Hence why when they had lit a small fire and shot down a couple of rabbits nearby for food, he confessed he never forgave turn cloaks no matter the circumstance. To him, shedding one's cloak was the biggest treachery in existence. 

He had stared directly at him as he spoke these words and narrowed on Howland frequently. At first, Jon was confused by said actions but he refused to voice it. He had to learn. And the only way he would learn is if he used his own brain to figure things out. So once the pair of them had fallen asleep, he had taken out the small book Samwell had given him which contained all the noble Houses and their Lords and Ladies. It took him a long time to find the house Alliser belonged to, as instead of being sorted in alphabetical order- it was ordered from most influential House to least influential for every Kingdom. Finally, he did. House Thorne, with a coat of arms of a flail argent on a flaming red background and a black border, a lesser House in the Crownlands. 

This one pleasantly surprised Jon. He'd never heard a Crownlands accent before, but if he didn't see this he would've assumed him to have been a Riverlander with how gruff it was. Although, the only Riverlander's he knew were Lady Catelyn and Septa Mordane. If only he had asked Pyp to teach him the differing accents in the continent. If anyone knew them, it was him. Before joining the watch, he had travelled across Westeros and possibly even in Essos for all he knew. If he did, he did not speak of it, but the possibility was there. He read a little bit and noticed that there was only one Thorne still alive and she was a female, meaning the line was going to die out.

Why had he chosen to join the watch if he as the only male left in the family? Did he value his vows over them? Obviously, he did, and he'd never spoken about his family. Perhaps she was a sister, a cousin, possibly even a wife he had left behind. But it would probably be rather insensitive to ask him directly to his face. However, it explained one thing to him after much contemplation. He had been incredibly hostile to Lady Catelyn when he had first come to the watch with her and Robb to tell Aemon who he really was. The Tully's of Riverrun were staunch supporters of the Targaryen's for hundreds of years, yet they had switched their allegiance. It was probably even more of a sour taste in his mouth that the Tully females had married into other rebel families. 

A part of him wondered if there really was more to it like Rhaegar and Elia suspected. It was a well-known fact in Winterfell that Rickard Stark was incredibly ambitious, and it was only his wife Lyarra who was able to reign this in. But when she died, there was no stopping him. Less than a year after her death was all it took for the betrothals to be arranged. Brandon to Catelyn, Lyanna to Robert, and a pending announcement for Eddard and Benjen. He'd asked both of his uncles about it, but they had simply shrugged. Both confirming it had all kicked off before anything was set in stone, so neither of them knew their intended. 

He'd also heard that Jaime Lannister was supposed to be betrothed to Lysa Tully before Aerys decided to spit in Tywin's eye by making him a Kingsguard, where she was promptly betrothed to someone else. This fact did not sit well for Jon, as it was obvious the Lannister's were planning on something, and there was a fair chance other Houses were in on it. There is no concrete evidence regarding it, but the ingredients were there for something to be put together. He had then found the other Houses in the Crownlands that Aemon had told him about. Finding both with relative ease. They were still lesser Houses, but they were considered second tier.

From the sea green background and silver seahorse of House Velaryon to the numerous red crabs on a white field for House Celtigar. Monford and his son Monterys, alongside his bastard half-brother Aurane. Then there was the elderly Lord Ardrian- the last remaining member of the latter. Claw Isle would be difficult to bring into the fold- he knew that much. There wasn't much that bound their Houses together other than the fact both had originated in Valyria. He wished he could see it, but according to numerous Maester's, it was all the hells combined. Apparently, volcanoes still erupted almost daily where the capital of the Freehold lays. A place no one had successfully gone through without at the least leaving with greyscale. 

"What's on your mind?"

Jon jumped in fright at the voice before turning to the short man, sighing deeply in thought.

"Beginning to have second thoughts. I'm clueless on all of this- "

"There's no turning back now Jaeron. The first moves have been made, and if you backpedal now, it will only be harder further down the line."

Jon bit his lip at this, his true name still sounding strange to hear. He'd been called Jon his entire life, any other name didn't sit right with him. Yes, he'd come to terms with his heritage by now, but there was no denying he still thought of himself as the bastard of Winterfell. 

"I need to tell you something. I planned on telling you when we got to Greywater Watch, but it's best if you know before we arrive."

He cocked his head to the side and he understood the silent question, turning his head to check that Ser Alliser was still asleep. Once satisfied that they were alone, they stopped in their movements and he turned to him. He had to look down to the Lord, his short stature being almost comical. But it was a known fact that the Crannogmen were small. Rumoured to have shared blood with the Children but said species had been gone for thousands of years. That was something the Maester's agreed on and had cited in numerous books and reports.

"I told you we do not have a Master-at-arms already, but I did make you aware that I sent correspondence to the man who taught my Meera. But I didn't tell you who this person is. The reason for that is that everyone believes he is dead, even Ned does. Only a select few people know. What do you know of the day we found your mother dying in childbed, Jaeron?"

His eyebrows furrowed at his words, once again wracking his brain trying to make sense of his words. Wondering where he was going with this.

"You were with him alongside a few other bannermen and fought against the Kingsguard who were ordered to protect my mother and me. Only you and my uncle survived and made your way up to the tower to find my mother bleeding out after needing to be cut open to get me out as the birth went wrong."

Howland snorted at his words a little, him putting it as bluntly as that summing up everything.

"That's the essence of it but let me tell you the full picture."

So that is what he did. He spoke of the anonymous raven they had received whilst lifting the siege at Storm's End. To riding out into the Prince's Pass where the tower was located with Lord Willam Dustin, Ethan Glover, Martyn Cassel, Theo Wull, and Mark Ryswell. To being met with Ser Arthur Dayne, Ser Gerold Hightower, and Ser Oswell Whent. That was when he confirmed that the latter was none other than Catelyn's cousin. This surprised Jon massively. He knew there was some relation considering her mother was a Whent, but he thought it would've been generations removed like him and Aemon were. To the ensuing fight which left Howland injured and leaving only Eddard to face against Ser Arthur. 

But the story differed from here. They'd been brought up being told that Eddard had a stroke of luck and defeated Ser Arthur in single combat, but Howland confirmed that in actuality, he was about to strike the killing blow on Eddard when he ran him through from behind with a knife. This rendered the Kingsguard in agony and Eddard landed a swing which left him bleeding out on the Dornish sand. He explained how he had followed a while later in a lot of pain, having to practically drag himself up the stairs with his injury to be met with a dead Lyanna and Eddard cradling him. He spoke of how the room was overpowered with the scent of roses and fresh blood.

"Your uncle immediately ordered her body be cleaned and prepared for burial and rode hard for Starfall with Dawn. But I had to remain as I was going to bleed out myself if I didn't seek help. But I wasn't the only one who received help. In all the chaos, we didn't realise that Ser Arthur wasn't dead."

It took a few moments for the words to sink in. But when they did, his eyes widened to the size of saucers before facing the man in complete shock.

"They treated us both, but we were both very weak. When he came around, the first thing he did was to ask about Lyanna and the babe. He was heartbroken when I told him she had passed, and I made him aware what your uncle was going to do. He wasn't going to kneel for Robert Baratheon, and he wanted to be near you. You were just born and he already confirmed he was going to support you once you knew the truth. I sent a raven to him not long before your sixteenth name-day to let him know. He's been staying in some village in the Vale under an alias of Daemien Sand. He should be in Greywater Watch already when we arrive. He'll be the one training you. He did teach my Meera the sword, but she prefers a spear and a bow. Only me, Wylla, and Allyria Dayne know he is still alive. Not even young Edric knows."

Stunned did not cut the feeling that was burning inside him now. His breath sped up and deep inside, he felt like the little kid who pretended to be Aemon the Dragonknight with Robb. Gods, Robb would be jealous beyond belief, as would Bran. 

"Why not tell my uncle he survived? And what about Ashara? Did she not throw herself from the highest tower in Starfall in her grief?"

"Ser Arthur asked me not to tell anyone other than his youngest sister. We travelled to Starfall together not long after we were both given the clear to travel with our injuries. Yes, Ashara did throw herself from the tower but it wasn't the grief of losing her brother- or not fully. She became taken with someone at Harrenhal. No one knew exactly who it was though. Some thought it was Brandon, some thought it was your uncle, some thought it was someone else. What was certain is that they had a fling which left her with child. The babe was stillborn though, and she lost the man she fell for through it all. I'd like to know who it was; I think everyone secretly wants to know, but there's no way to know for certain. She danced with a lot of people those few days. 

"However, there is more to it than simply this. When I was recovering, Arthur told me it was Ashara who sent the raven to us to alert us of your mother's whereabouts. How neither of us thought she wasn't in on it beforehand surprised me greatly. She was one of Elia's ladies in waiting, and she was a good friend. Plus being the younger sister of the famous Sword of the Morning. She knew that Elia and Rhaegar were pretending to still be married when they had secretly gotten separated, she knew that Aegon was still going to be first in line despite this and not be delegitimised. It was her idea to keep Lyanna in the tower as it's only a couple of days ride from Starfall, meaning communication was easy. Plus, did you never assume that someone in Starfall wasn't in on it when one of their wet nurses was your wet nurse?"

Now, his head was beginning to ache at all the information being thrown at him now. The Dayne's were in on it? Or at least some of them? 

"But why kill herself though?"

"Simple. Partially grief at losing her child, partially grief over the 'death' of her brother, and because there was a high chance of the truth coming out. She knew she would've been the first person questioned considering how close she was to Elia. Perhaps there was more to it, but I'd imagine to most people all of this at once would've been too much. I only spoke to her once at that tourney, but she seemed lovely. Incredibly beautiful too. A lot of men were tripping over their feet around her. Even your uncle was too embarrassed to ask her to dance, it was Brandon who did that for him. She was already dead when we arrived at Starfall unfortunately. But I can confirm that people in Starfall were in on it. Allyria is a definite, as is Arthur. I think Edric's father knew too but he died a couple of years later. But he did name his heir after your uncle- called him Ned for short. I doubt he would've done such a thing if he didn't have an idea at the least. And Wylla most certainly knows, she agreed to pretend to be your mother in case Robert ever asked your uncle. That's the answer he always gives whenever he is asked, but never any further details."

The ship was in front of them now, the words exchanged from the day prior still spinning around into a seemingly impossible maze inside his head. He was a little nervous considering he'd never travelled by ship before, but they couldn't double back on horseback as that would make it look like he was deserting. The ravens had been sent already that he'd 'taken' the black. Meaning if he leaves in that fashion, it will fall to Robb to execute him despite knowing the truth of it all. He pulled the cloth around his head which was beginning to grow back his black curls he'd lost in the fire when the dragons hatched to avoid detection and followed Howland on board- Ser Alliser getting on another ship as he was heading much further south than they were. 

Surprisingly due to their location, the water was calm the first two days. On the few spare hours where the mist disappeared, he could see the coastline of Skagos- or at least, he thought it was Skagos. An island that was a part of the North but were more isolated than even the crannogmen of the Neck. Now that he thought on it, he never learned much about the island- so he had asked Howland. He was told there were three main Houses on the notorious island. House Crowl, House Magnar, and House Stane. Jon had poured over the book given to him by Aemon and Samwell, but he was unable to find anything regarding them other than their House sigil and their seats. Perhaps they would be a possibility? He shook his head, because hardly anyone dared even go near the mountainous island. 

On the third day since they took sail, they passed Karhold. The ancient seat of the Karstark's. A lesser branch in the Stark family tree that went back hundreds of years and were distant cousins. The day after that they passed the Dreadfort- the seat of the Bolton's. They weren't close to said castles, but the outlines of them were easy to see. He'd hoped to see Last Hearth on the way down but alas, said seat was too far inland to be seen from the water. The further south they got, the warmer it got too. By the time they reached what Howland stated was the border between the Neck and the rest of the North, his clothes were sticking to him and the heat was getting to him. 

And this was still the North. How warm was the south then? 

Jon's horse was released alongside his belongings, quickly attaching the boxes that contained Rhaegon and Lyrax who were now rattling inside the wood and metal. Neither of them clearly liking being on a ship. From here they walked to Pallosa, a small village in said area that had a mixture of crannogmen and northmen so that Howland could borrow a horse to make time easier getting to his seat. They stayed that night, renting out a couple of small rooms that reminded him greatly of his own bedroom in Winterfell. A bedroom he might not see for many years, or possibly never again if he fails. 

He started from the North first, going through all the heirs and taking notes on who was and wasn't wed. He needed somewhere to start from. By the time morning came, he'd gotten as far as the Reach. He'd need to work on it though because he hasn't had political training. He'd only started going to politics lessons a few months prior. They were awake early the next morning and wasted no time in breaking their fast on fresh trout, eggs, and blood sausages. 

"How far away is Greywater Watch from here?"

As the older man swung onto his horse, it was difficult to bite back a smile. The man looked even smaller atop the destrier he'd been given, but that would be rude to do so. Swinging into his own saddle and making sure everything was attached tightly before nudging his own horse.

"Around six hours. Keep close behind me because the Neck is filled with multiple rivers filled with lizard lions and numerous other animals that aren't found elsewhere."

A small amount of fear wracked through him at these words and he done exactly that. The entire ride down there was barely a metre of distance between the two. It didn't take long for it to darken massively, the trees completely blocking out sunlight from above. The rivers all had a murky green tinge to them which he explained was due to the mucky banks being washed away. They'd even passed the Green Fork which he remembered was one of the three main rivers in the Riverlands. Looking at it, it was obvious why it was called the Green Fork.

"Was this the river my father fell?"

The question was asked timidly, and the Lord turned to him and gave him a tiny smile.

"Nay, it is not. Your father fell at a river that is close to this one much farther south. It was called the Ruby Ford after he died, the gemstones in his armour being scattered in the water when he was slain. Although a part of this river does feed the other one, but they were considered as two bodies of water and not the one." 

Jon nodded at this, taking in the information. Even now, he knew little of everything that happened. His uncle refused to talk about it as the memories of his siblings and father were too much for him, and Catelyn didn't know much on it as she was left out of it considering she was pregnant with Robb during it all. Howland noticed the younger looking around in wonder at everything, knowing he'd never really travelled much at all. He hated that Ned had named him his bastard which meant he was pushed into the shadows, but it was the only way that made sense if he were to keep the boy close to him. Looking at him, he did look like a Stark. But looking at his facial structure and his eyes confirmed who he really was. Fortunately, Rhaegar was sheltered for a lot of his life so not many people knew what he looked like other than those of high birth. 

By now, they were at the narrow ridge that led out onto the pier where a boat would be waiting to take them to the island the castle was situated on. Jon's eyebrows furrowed in confusion but he kept his face mostly stoic. Hopefully, he will learn fast. Yes, he is a crannogman and much like most of his people, he keeps to himself. But this doesn't mean he doesn't have an interest in the comings and goings. It certainly helped having no less than twenty wargs residing in the castle who could warg into whatever animals they had and spy on people. Perhaps they could use that to their advantage, because not many people know that such a power still resides. And the boy is one too, the downside is his bonded animal was none other than a direwolf. 

The wolf was trotting along beside the horses as they rode, barely making a noise at all other than a single growl towards a small lizard lion on the banks of the river. Soon, the stables were visible and they swung down from their horses and he helped unbuckle his belongings, almost dropping one of the dragons as whatever one was inside the box he'd grabbed began flapping around inside and making angry noises. Chances are it was the blue one, chuckling fondly at the memory of watching him trying to catch her to get her inside the box. Even Aemon had found it hilarious, and he couldn't see what was transpiring. 

"We'll leave the horses here. I'll make the signal and a boat will arrive within the next few minutes to take us to the castle."

Jon nodded at the explanation, already knowing that his home was on a floating island. Very few castles in Westeros were considered impregnable- but Greywater Watch was. Solely down to the fact that it cannot be located as it is always moving. The second one that comes to mind is the Eyrie due to it being as high as the clouds at the top of a steep and narrow mountain. Riverrun was a close contender as well due to it being situated in a large moat with three large rivers feeding it as very few people know how to swim. But the others? With the correct strategy, they could easily be taken. 

Once the signal had been made, it took approximately ten minutes for the boat to arrive. The younger looking at it with more than a little apprehension. A feeling the wolf shared as it took more than a few coaxing words to get him on to it. Soon, the castle came into view and Howland couldn't stop the small chuckle escaping at the way Jaeron's eyes widened. It was nowhere near as large as Winterfell was, but it sure had a similar height. How did something of this size not sink? From where he was sitting, he could see it moving just slightly, probably unable to be felt once inside. Three large towers in a triangular shape approximately sixty feet in height and walls surrounding all sides apart from a drawbridge.

As they approached, the bridge was lowered which acted as a makeshift pier. The boat was steered in close to the wood and metal before being tied up, and shakily stepping onto it. It was surprisingly sturdy, even Ghost seemed surprised by this. They walked down it and soon they were inside the walls so the castle was fully in their vision. The structure reminded him immediately of Barrow Hall, the castle in the Barrowlands that was run by Lady Barbrey Dustin. But instead of bricks it was built was blocks of stone in varying sizes and colours and materials. Clearly used to reinforce the walls of the building to act as a second line of defence even without armies. 

Inside the castle was even more surprising, the courtyard taking up much of it, something that reminded him greatly of Winterfell's own courtyard. They were met by three people- one he recognised as she had come to Winterfell. Howland immediately walked over to her and pulled her in tightly before doing the same with who could only be his children. The boy was shorter than his mother, and he was very skinny, but his eyes made him look decades older than he really was. The girl on the other hand was her father's height and from where he stood, he could see just how muscular she was.

"You've already become acquainted with my wife, Jon. This is my son Jojen, and my daughter Meera."

A tray was handed to him filled with bread and salt which he accepted immediately. Knowing the respect behind the act. 

"Mother, didn't you say- "

Jyana cut her son off with a stern glare, and he had an idea what he was about to say. He'd been told that the children would be made aware when she came back so they knew just who was coming here. His eyes wandered around the courtyard for a moment, trying to spot a tall Dornishman, but he couldn't see anyone who fit said description.

"Why don't we meet in my solar and we can discuss everything further?"

Despite him asking it as a question, there was no denying the bite to his words. Even when he is ordering people, he does it politely. Making a note of that mentally, Jon followed them inside and following down many corridors and climbing numerous staircases. From how high up they were, he knew they were in one of the towers. They stopped outside a door where he was told he would be staying. He took the incentive by taking his belongings in that he'd lugged up and signalled the wolf to go inside and get settled, Ghost still whimpering over the boat ride. Wolves aren't made for journeying on water. On the opposite side of the tower was where he was alerted was Howland's personal space, his eyebrows raising minimally at the proximity. Remembering something Catelyn had said to him. Keeping people close by allows them to keep an eye on them and to build better alliances. Hence why they had Theon as a ward, this making it impossible for Balon to retaliate once again as it would end his line. 

"Jojen, whilst he is here we will be referring to him as Jon. Aye, his name is Jaeron, but he is here to foster. And if it got out we're secretly fostering a legitimate Targaryen heir; it will be war."

The younger nodded simply before looking to him with those unnerving eyes. They reminded him greatly of Ser Rodrik's when sparring, analysing every part of someone to figure out their weak spots. 

"Father, why didn't you tell me Ser Daemien was coming back?"

Immediately, Jon's heart leapt in his chest. Remembering a few days prior when Howland told him the alias the legendary Kingsguard was using. 

"I will be explaining that a little later, Meera. He has gone to purchase some new weapons as it's been years since he's last saw you. Plus, we'll need better training equipment considering we've now got a very capable fighter in the form of Jon. Ser Daemien will be training him how to use dual swords. He started learning how to do so in Winterfell, but unfortunately Ser Rodrik does not specialise in it. Therefore, he's not the best fit to do so."

Meera was satisfied with the response as she nodded simply. 

"You both know who he really is, as does he. But he cannot remain in Winterfell as it's becoming too obvious now as he is looking more like his father as the days pass. Plus, two fire breathing creatures- "

"Can we see them?"

Once again, it was Meera who spoke and a small smile broke out on his face at her excitement. From the short exchange, he had a feeling she was like Arya in personality. Gods, he missed her, badly. He missed teaming up with her to prank the others, missed secretly teaching her archery, and missed their conversations. With them being the only two who looked like Stark's- they stuck to one another. 

"Aye, you can. I should probably let them out of their cages as they're already mad enough. Where should I keep them, my Lord?"

Howland turned to him before walking to the window, gesturing him to follow. The height they were at immediately made him feel a little dizzy, especially the fact that they were surrounded by water. He could swim, but he wasn't a strong swimmer. Robb and Arya were the best at it. Sansa was much the same as he was, but she hated doing so and didn't partake in the activity. The older man pointed to a second drawbridge that was attached to a smaller island.

"These two islands are connected underwater, so they will never drift away from one another. There's an old storehouse amongst the trees alongside a few caves. Only my family and you will have access to it. It should be adequate until they become much larger."

He handed him a small key over and he knew that it must be the one to let the drawbridge down. With that, they walked to his own room again and picked up the boxes, the dragons inside immediately rattling the wood and metal inside in irritation. Jojen and Jyana visibly stepped back in fear, but Meera seemed excited by the prospect. Jon paid attention to where they were going, needing to memorise the layout of the castle fully if he was going to be living here for the foreseeable future. Perhaps he will only be here for a few months, perhaps it will be years. It really all depends on how fast the dragons will grow and how things go in the capital. The last raven they had received was the one from when they had arrived, and they would've done so almost two months ago now. He'd remained at Castle Black for almost three weeks and it took a little more than a week to travel here. 

Soon, they were in the courtyard and led to the opposite side of the castle, Howland placing the key into the lock to allow the bridge to come down. The attached island looked barely inhabitable, but he noticed a pathway etched into the trees with stones. They only walked for a few minutes before coming to another tower. Only around twenty feet, but with a much wider base than the one's he was used to. This would be perfect for them. Easily concealable, with plenty of trees to hide them from view if they were to explore a little. Flying would be the difficult part, as they'd need to remain within this island unless there was a large open area unused by the Crannogmen nearby.

Once inside the building, the cages were placed on the stone ground. Once the hatch was opened, neither wasted a moment before popping their heads out of their enclosures. Jon's eyes widened a little. It had been a week since he'd last saw them out of the cages, but they'd grown even more. Only a few inches, but it was surprisingly quick. Now opened fully, both ran out and began stretching their wings and bodies, clearly cramped from being inside. Jyana gasped from behind him and he remembered this was the first time she was seeing them. They'd already been in the cages when she'd travelled to Winterfell with her husband to get him. 

"Can I?"

He turned to the young female and nodded. Guiding her over to the middle of the room and instructing her to put her hand out for them to sniff to get familiar with her. Unsurprisingly, it was Lyrax who came over first- Rhaegon still being wary of strangers. The blue dragon let out a loud chirp which meant she accepted her and he nodded her way, giving her permission to stroke her if she wanted. Meera wasted no time in doing so and it wasn't long until Lyrax was lying on her back so she could get her stomach tickled. Neither of them could hold in their laughter at this as Rhaegon climbed up Jon's back to perch on his shoulders. He was now too big to sit on just the one shoulder, having one leg on each and using his front legs to grip onto the back of his neck. 

"I have Rhaegon on me right now, the one rolling on the ground with your daughter tickling her is named Lyrax. As you can see, they're friendly for the most part. He's just wary of new people but he'll come around eventually."

"What do they eat?"

He turned to Meera again who was still tickling Lyrax. If she were human, there was no doubt in his mind she would have been laughing. 

"Roasted meat, but they do eat vegetation as well. It's not preferred though."

Finally, Howland stopped chuckling at the exchange his daughter was now in.

"I believe Ser Daemien will be back soon, so we should head inside. There's something else I need to tell you all. Jon knows, I made him aware on our journey down. You can keep your wolf in the castle if you wish, but he is welcome to remain here as well. I'll have the cooks set aside chunks of meat for him and the dragons. Although, I'd imagine they will be big enough to hunt themselves soon."

All Jon could do was nod before following them back across the bridge into the courtyard, watching as it was lifted back up, concealing the island from view. Yes, it was definitely a good idea to come here. Howland spoke to a few people who nodded before leading them to the tower they were staying in once more. He learned that their own rooms were on the floor above, meaning they would all be close to one another in case something happened. All sat down at the table as Ghost nudged his way inside to plop down beside Jon, wasting no time in petting him fondly. Food was brought to them and they immediately ate. He was surprised at what it was, honeyed duck with spiced mash. He'd been brought up thinking that the Crannogmen of the Neck lived on frogs and lizard lions. Although, now that he thought on it, ducks were probably as common here as deer were in the Wolfswood due to the bountiful amounts of water for them to swim in.

A timid knock on the door brought it all into perspective and with confirmation given, the door opened. The man who walked in was very tall, although Hodor would've had a few more inches on him. Muscles covering his entire body and his caramel coloured skin only seeming to accentuate this. Black hair streaked with silver and gold, and piercing purple eyes that seemed to glow, eyes he shared with him. 

"Ser Daemien!"

Meera immediately ran towards the Knight who immediately welcomed her into a tight embrace, but then his eyes landed on Jon. His own widened slightly as he took him in, no introductions were needed. Gods, he didn't half look like Rhaegar. If he had his father's silver hair, he would've been a copy of him. 

"Please sit, Ser. You already know who this is I'd assume?"

"Aye, I do. He looks exactly like his father apart from the dark hair. My Prince, it is wonderful to meet you."

Jon simply nodded, a silent assurance that he was glad to meet him too. Only doing so as he was focusing everything on not losing his composure. This was Ser Arthur Dayne for crying out loud! 

"You knew Prince Rhaegar, Ser?"

Howland and Jyana gave their daughter small smiles now, knowing she was going to freak when she found out just who this person was and who had trained her. 

"I knew him very well, I considered him a great friend of mine. But there's no need to call me Daemien whilst we are alone like we are now. I apologise for I have not been wholly honest with you, Meera. Daemien Sand is not my name. I couldn't go around with my real name as then I would either be exiled or executed, which goes against my vows. Ser Arthur Dayne of Starfall at your service, Kingsguard to Aerys II. And if Jaeron allows it, I will happily serve him as Kingsguard too."

Now, Jon's eyes widened as he stared at the man in complete awe. Everyone seemingly dissolving around him so it was only them. Unsheathing his sword and getting down on one knee in front of him, placing the weapon on the ground. 

"Prince Jaeron, I offer you my services. I will shield your back and keep your council, and I will give my life for yours if need be. I swear it by the Old gods and the New."

Stunned. That was the only feeling he had currently. But he knew the response, it had been drummed into hm by Catelyn, Robb, and Maester Luwin. And there was no one better he wanted on his side than this.

"And I vow. That you shall always have a place by my hearth, and meat and mead at my table. And I pledge to ask no service of you that might bring you dishonour. I swear it by the Old gods and the New. Arise, Ser Arthur. It would do me a great honour to have you be the first member of my Kingsguard."


	15. XIV

Jaeron XIII

"Keep your eyes open!"

Jon spun around and glared hard at the Knight. 

"I am!"

"No, you aren't. Otherwise you would've seen my swipe at you from the side."

The younger shut his mouth at this, knowing there was no use in arguing with him. It had been almost a month since he'd arrived here under the guise of fostering. Although, it really didn't seem like that at all. It felt like it had only been a couple of days because he was just so busy. Much to his surprise, Howland found politics to be a hobby of his- despite not taking part in them himself. Every morning after breaking their fast, they met in his solar where he would quiz him with numerous scenarios. The first week of doing so, he'd embarrassed himself greatly because he only knew the absolute basics of said subject. 

Whenever he was thinking into it in more detail, he simply only thought of the main Houses. Something he'd found out was stupid to do. Whenever a major House calls their banners, lesser Houses are obliged to obey through honour- but honour wasn't instilled in everyone. Meaning this was a stupid tactic. However, there was a blessing in the form that the older man had taken a note of all the Houses who pledged their support for Rhaegar during the rebellion, knowing that would be a good place to start in getting allies. He'll undoubtedly have the North, and there's a fair chance he'll get the Riverlands too through Catelyn, but that all depends on how it's presented to Hoster Tully when the time comes. 

The blade came his way but this time he was prepared, having anticipated for Ser Arthur to strike close to his blind spot from his previous words. But right before the blades met, the other blade came his way and rested on his neck. Admitting defeat once again, he stepped away.

"Always be on high alert. Never let your guard down. You're focusing more on the one blade and using the other as a last resort type of thing. If you're going to learn how to master dual blades, you need to treat both equally the same."

Jon licked his lips to add some moisture to them, his clothes sticking to him now he was covered in sweat. The Knight was not letting up in any way at all. Once he'd caught his breath, he nodded to the older to confirm he was ready again. But this time, he went in with the correct mindset. As steel met steel from the training swords they were using, his thoughts began to replay everything that had happened in the last month. He'd received a raven from Ned the week prior, a response to him being here and a response to the one Howland sent from Castle Black regarding Arya and Sansa having what he called wolf dreams. He wasn't sure if the elder female did have them but considering they all were- there was a fair chance she had it as well. Like expected, Arya confided in him that she was dreaming she was Nymeria in the Riverlands, but Sansa remained tight lipped. He understood why if what they suspected was true, as Lady had been killed on Cersei's and Robert's orders. 

Every morning after he'd had political training, the crannogman trained him on warging as it was a 'respite' as he called it. The first ten times he had done so, he failed miserably to make the connection. But on the eleventh, he finally did make it, but it was only for a matter of seconds. 

"Good, it all depends on how strong your mind is. Warging is creating a deep bond to the point that one being allows its mind to be overrun."

He caught sight of the blade a fraction too late, but he managed to use his height to his advantage by ducking. It left him severely off balance, but it did allow for the blade to go over his head. Arthur smiling broadly before sliding both towards him. Not at the speed were it a real fight of course, but close enough that it felt real. That was the quickest way to learn how to wield a blade. Bending his head back to a point where it was extremely uncomfortable, the cold steel grazed over his neck and under his chin. Then he spotted the opening. Swinging his right blade up where Arthur's blades were still crossed meant he was slightly off balance. A fact that was proven as when he untangled himself, it loosened his grip ever so slightly on his second blade which allowed him to swoop in with his own secondary blade and disarm him of one of his swords.

"Nicely done. Now, you'll not find yourself in awkward positions like that to use to your advantage often. But it means you're aware of the intricacies of body language. That will be useful. I think we'll call it at that for the day, you need to change as you look like you've gone swimming in the water, kid."

His cheeks heated up massively at his words because he knew it was true. He probably stank as well, but he was too kind to say anything regarding that. Jon quickly wiped his forehead with the back of his hand before putting the training swords away- not even attempting to use live steel when learning a new skill. That would be a recipe to get himself killed. 

"Why did you learn how to fight with two swords, Ser?"

Arthur turned to him and looked away a moment later. 

"When I was twelve, I done something stupid. Ash and I were racing one another down the mountain beside Starfall on wooden planks we'd tied together as a makeshift sledge. I took the steepest part and found out the difficult way this was a terrible idea. I didn't have as much space to slow down and I couldn't roll off going at the speed I was. I had to break the hit. It was either my face or my hand- I chose my hand. I walked away with four broken fingers and a dislocated wrist in my right arm, meaning I couldn't use it for months whilst they healed. Therefore, when it came to lessons, I had to write with my left. It took weeks before I was able to do so and for it to be eligible. By the time my hand and wrist had healed, I was on par with both. I knew very few people wielded dual blades, so I decided to advance on my new skill."

Jon's eyes widened just slightly at the information, having been practising on what Howland called a 'court face'. He'd been weirded out by it at first but showing everything via his facial expressions was not a good thing to do. Especially once he starts his campaign, as one day he is going to do it. Once he was in his room, he immediately peeled his clothes off and climbed into the bath. He'd been assigned a handmaiden, but he refused the help, but she still helped him out with this. It wasn't the only thing she was helping with though. It had been Howland's idea, and Jon had saw great benefit in it.

Once he had settled to living here, Jojen had confided there were twenty-three wargs residing in the castle, including himself and his father. Including Jon into it, it was twenty-four. Only two of which no longer had their bonded animals, but one of the ones who had lost theirs was working on gaining a new bond. Howland seemed sceptical by this, not knowing if it was possible to do so, but it was worth the chance. They were using them as spies. Nine of which were bonded with a bird of some kind from hawks to ravens to finches to herons. There was a broad range, and this meant they could go into the minds of their animals and fly to somewhere, and it would not be odd. 

Which was where Moira came in- the woman he'd been assigned. Her bonded animal was a mouse, which was even better as she could get into the nooks and crannies of the smallest places, where nobody would be able to suspect anything. The only downfall was that they were on an island, and mice couldn't swim. It was wasted on her, and he knew once it is time, he was going to take her. She would be invaluable then. It was only once he realised his skin was wrinkling badly that he got out of the still steaming water- having taken a strange liking to water being almost at a boiling point since coming here. But he hadn't expected to walk into the room to find Arthur sitting at the desk with a box. 

"Ser Arthur?"

The older man smiled at the confusion in his voice before signalling him to sit down in front of him. He did so warily, wondering what his Kingsguard was doing. That was still a strange thought, having a permanent guard with him. 

"A raven arrived from Torghen whilst we were training, he should be here in the next fortnight. In the meantime, I think it's time you're taught how to interplay politics with war tactics."

If he wasn't confused before, he certainly was now, wondering what the man meant. War tactics and politics were completely different subjects, how did they come together? Political strife causes wars, and wars cause political strife. That's how it works, they cannot be balanced fully. He eyed the box oddly, only seeing a single word written on it. Cyvasse. He'd never heard that name before, but he got his answer as he opened it to reveal the contents. 

"A game? Really?"

"Aye, a game that originated in Volantis around one hundred years ago, although the Lysene claim to have invented it. It's a game of strategy, war, and cunning all in one. It's difficult to master it, but a lot of people use it. The Lannister's do, I used to verse Jaime back when we were still brothers. He was terrible at it I will say, but Tywin is a mastermind at it. Doran and Oberyn play frequently as well, even Elia did. A lot of people looked her over because she was sickly and she was female, but she had a fantastic political mind."

At his words, Jon felt a gaping feeling inside. This was the first time Arthur had openly spoke of anything that had happened. He'd never thought about it really, but now that he was, he must've known his blood siblings.

"Can you tell me about them? Rhaenys and Aegon?"

Bright purple eyes met his own before the darker skinned male looked away, beginning to take out the pieces and explaining what each one was. 

"What would you like to know? You can ask, my King, I am honour bound to answer your questions- "

"I'm not King yet, Arthur. I may not be, I could fail. I know a little about it through the letters that were left, but they were vague because there was simply too much going on to put it all onto a piece of parchment."

The Knight tightened his lips before sighing deeply, it clearly still troubling him greatly. 

"I suppose I'd better start from the beginning then, on how it all happened. Do you know how they met?"

Jon simply nodded, knowing that his mother had entered that fated tourney to restore Howland's honour. 

"It wasn't a secret why the tourney was arranged. There was a reason that a lot of Lords and Ladies were invited- to gain support to overthrow Aerys. I didn't agree with what Rhaegar was doing. Aye, your grandfather was mad, but he wasn't always like that. Unpredictable yes, but after Duskendale he was never the same again. It wore down on Barristan many a times. He risked everything to save him, yet he got a madman in response. But he's prudent, and he sticks to his vows more than most. Rhaella was supportive of her son, she faced a lot worse than most people. I cannot count the number of times where I was stationed to guard them as he forced himself on her. But our vows were to protect them no matter what, but not from each other."

His voice trailed off after this, and the younger bit his lip hard as he tried to imagine how difficult that must've been. Rape was punishable by death, but because his grandfather was the King, it was ignored despite being obvious. From the letters that were left, he knew this was how Daenerys was conceived. Probably how many of their failed babes were conceived.

"Your father was trying to gather allies to start a rebellion, had even made quite a name for himself there. The women were all falling over their feet around him, and a few men as well. Your other grandfather was openly trying to create a great alliance, and he reached out to him, but got no response. Although, it is possible the raven was just shot down or was attacked by something else. Only one letter was sent to Rickard, so it's certainly possible he had no idea the truth of everything. But it all backfired when Aerys walked in, meaning he couldn't do anything. 

"At the time of that, he'd been speaking to Jaime Lannister. It wasn't a secret Cersei wanted to get Rhaegar in her bed and have him set Elia aside, but he saw an opening with the young Knight. I don't know exactly what he was planning with him, only that a betrothal was in question to bring the Lannister's into the fold. Rhaegar hated Tywin, it was well known, but he wasn't an idiot. Again, this went down the river when Aerys decided to spit in the Lion's eye by naming him to the vacant Kingsguard position at seventeen. Your father was furious with this, but he couldn't say anything on it. The King made it well known that if Rhaegar questioned him openly he would set him aside as his heir and name Viserys as his heir despite only being seven. Your father knew that his own father was moulding him to be like him, but Rhaella shielded him from the madness. This in turn leading to her being beaten and raped every other night."

His stomach was in knots now, trying to imagine the turmoil his father must've been in. If Aerys hadn't turned up at Harrenhal, would it have all kicked off the way that it had? Possibly, but not certainly.

"It was on the fifth day of the tourney that your parents met for the first time, something I witnessed myself as it was me who accompanied him to carry out the order. Everyone thought that damned mystery Knight was a man trying to gain some notoriety, and nobody knew what happened to them apart from us, Howland, and your uncles. We only had to search for around twenty minutes when we came across her at the side of one of the many streams which fed the lake. When he caught sight of her and put the pieces together, he laughed for a long time, something I did too. It startled Lyanna, and she nearly fell in, but your father caught her. 

"He helped her remove the armour as she was struggling doing so. She was short, only perhaps to your shoulders. But she more than made up for her height with her brash personality. They talked for near on two hours after this, only stopping when Howland stumbled across us and made us aware Aerys was going to send another search party. We found a place for her to hide and he took the shield they didn't discard to use as evidence so nobody would figure out what had really happened. As you'll know, at this point Elia and Rhaegar were officially separated but were remaining quiet on it. If what I heard in their tent that night was true, she found it hilarious like we did. I mean, a fourteen name-day tiny girl unhorsing three squires to known Knights? 

"Elia knew he was going to crown her if he won, and she agreed with it. Seeing it as praise for what she had done. Us Dornish are much like you Northerners when it comes to respect and honour. Your mother did something that many people would recoil over, and she did it to restore the honour of a friend and a faithful bannerman of her House. But no one else saw it as this. When Rhaegar unhorsed Barristan the next day and rode past Elia to lay that crown of winter roses in Lyanna's lap, it's not an exaggeration that all the smiles died. They did, I didn't think it was possible for such a large gathering to be so quiet so suddenly. Brandon was furious, had to be held back, Robert Baratheon much the same. Rickard and Eddard were angry too- but it was nothing compared to Oberyn's reaction."

Jon's lips tightened as he thought on it all, trying to piece it all together. He'd picked up that Rhaegar was arranging a betrothal to get the Lannister's on his side, and a part of him found it odd that Aerys did what he did when his son was doing this. Had Aerys found out? Was there truth to the rumour Maester Luwin spoke about regarding him setting Rhaegar aside in favour of Viserys as his heir? Of Rhaella crowning her youngest son whilst pregnant with her daughter? But there was no proof to it, or if there was, it hadn't been found. 

"Elia asked me to accompany her to confront her brothers. Doran was not pleased with her, but the decree had already been made and this placated him. Her younger brother though became convinced that she was becoming a weakling from the years of abuse she received due to her illnesses. I'd never seen Elia so angry before, and she punched him so hard that she broke his nose. It was the last time she ever saw him, and it hurt her massively. I'd known the Martell siblings since I was a boy, from visiting the Water Garden's on a yearly basis for a retreat- something many of us do. Well, apart from the Yronwood's but that's not a surprise as they despise the Martell's. 

"Things weren't the same for the week that followed. Your father's plan failed spectacularly as Aerys just so happened to show up despite not coming outside for years. Everyone was surprised he turned up, as he rode out after they all had. But then everyone left once it did come to an end. Your mother went back to Winterfell, your father back to Dragonstone with Elia and the children. I didn't know what was going on for a few months after this, but eventually I ran into Ash going to the rookery with a raven during one of their visits back to the Red Keep whilst I was on guard. That was when I found out your parents were communicating, and she was being the mediator."

He went quiet for a few minutes at this, clearly trying to think of a way to describe what had really happened. Hearing it from the point of view from someone who was sworn to protect his family was probably the best way to have it all out. Jon already knew much of it from the letters, from what his father had told him, and from Howland's detailed account. But there were still pieces missing. Had it just been a misunderstanding? The more he hears, the more he thinks this was not the case. They were missing something big, the final piece of the jigsaw to figure out exactly what happened. 

"When Ash told me that your father was heading to the Riverlands to go to your mother, I was shocked. I spoke a little with Rickard at the tourney, and he did tell me that he wasn't going to have her wed until she was a woman grown. And by this point, there was only a month before she was to turn sixteen. Meaning the wedding was going ahead, and she did not want to go ahead with it. I'm not sure how a ship was secretly arranged to go to White Harbour to collect her and to take her to the Riverlands, but they pulled it off. Oswell, Gerold, and I were tasked to keep an eye on him by Aerys. We met up with him close to Rosby, and we rode hard for Harrenhal.

"On the ride there was when we were all made aware that he and Elia were separated and had been for over a year. To say we were shocked is putting it very lightly. Neither of us knew what to think or what to say to that, but we were bound to always obey. We met her at the Inn at the Crossroads, and she bought a horse and rode hard with us to the lake where a boat was waiting. Oswell and I were tasked with keeping an eye out as they rowed to that island, them coming back an hour or so later with the bloody High Septon. Your father began drafting letters to send to the Lords and Ladies throughout the realm as a last-ditch attempt to try and overthrow Aerys- but neither got sent out. By then we'd heard that Brandon was riding south to free his 'kidnapped' sister.

"Lyanna sent a few ravens herself. One to Brandon, one to Rickard, one to Eddard, and one to Benjen to explain that she wasn't kidnapped and she had wed him willingly. By this point though, it was too late. The pieces on the board were moving and the game was being played. The letters never got received by the recipients. When we realised this, we had no choice but to flee. Rhaegar sent a raven to Elia to ask for help, as did I with my sister. He also urged them to get to Dragonstone as soon as possible. Ashara got out, but Elia was cornered before she could. My sister knew she likely would've been burned by Aerys for aiding in the plan, so she couldn't go back. She instead went back home and alerted Amaric- my elder brother. My little sister rode to Sunspear to alert the Martell's to what was happening, and my brother replied that we could stow away in that tower until we figured something out.

"Your mother found out she was carrying you just as we arrived at the tower. We stayed and planned as best we could, and Doran gave us consent to remain if the decree were still in place. Rhaegar was desperate to get Elia and the children out. Did you never wonder why there were three of us? One for you, one for your brother, and one for your sister. Oswell was assigned to you as through your uncle's marriage to his cousin, you were bound by family. I was assigned Aegon as he was further ahead in succession, and Gerold assigned to Rhaenys- I think there may have been talks for a betrothal for her with a Hightower. Aye, we were involved in a lot of political movements, but not all. It would've been a good match, as Hightower's are bound to the Tyrell's through Mace as he was wed to Alerie. She was Garlan's, Loras', Willas', and Margaery's mother."

Now, his head felt like it was about to explode with the information he was being given. Despite everything going to shit, his father was still trying to solve it. And it was a good move to make, but it required them getting out. And everyone knows they didn't.

"People were sent in to try and free Elia, Aegon, and Rhaenys, but it failed miserably. They were locked up in the Maidenvault and were watched day and night. Then Aerys commanded your father to join in on the fighting, an order he couldn't refuse as despite being his father- he was still his King and outranked him. They needed insiders, but your grandfather blocked all entrances to the Red Keep and the city apart from one tunnel that led out to the harbour. When we received the raven that your father had fell to Robert Baratheon's war hammer, we knew it was game over for us. Your mother was inconsolable, but she remained strong for you. 

"Three weeks later we received a raven from Doran confirming that Elia, Rhaenys, and Aegon had been killed. As you know with how succession works, this immediately meant you were the King despite not being born yet. Aye, rules of conquest are clear, but the rebellion was based on a lie. It really depends on how it's put, and then it is up to the people to decide which side they want to be on. The next month was when Eddard turned up with his retinue. There was no use in telling them the truth then because it would've ended the same. They'd spent the best part of a year believing what they had, a few words were not going to change that. Howland and I were seriously injured, and you know the rest already."

It was only now that the younger let out a long breath, letting it all sink in. Hearing it from another perspective was certainly eye opening and made it obvious just how secretive they all were about it. From the last few weeks that he's been around Arthur, he knew he considered Rhaegar an incredibly good friend. Now knowing that he hadn't confided in him didn't sit right. Jon looked around the room a few times before his eyes finally landed on the game, needing to get his mind off everything.

"So, how is the game played?"

Hours passed where the rules were explained to him in detail and had a couple of trial runs. Both times he failed miserably to the older, but he expected that because he had decades of strategy experience. Desperately trying to figure out if it were better to move the dragon or move the elephant, thinking of the implications of what this might entail. Yes, he could see why he had brought this game to him. Every angle had to be considered, which is a skill he will need to be able to do no matter what was thrown at him. Arthur wrote down all the rules for him so he could go over them at night alongside trying to figure out potential allies. The older gave him an idea to get two hugely influential Houses under his wing, but it was only two. He would need a lot more than that when the time comes.

"Ser, do you think it would be possible to win with little allies? It will need to remain a secret until the time comes around, but it won't be a secret if we don't inform people. Can you think of a way to get around this?"

The Dornishman eyes him strangely before giving him a small smile.

"Jaeron, there's one flaw to your logic. No matter what happens, this truth will split every Kingdom apart root and stem. It will be difficult to get allies, and you will need to take into consideration that not all lesser Houses will heed the call. Aye, you'll have the Riverlands and the North, possibly the Vale too but that one will be tricky as it was Lord Jon Arryn who raised the banners first in rebellion. But the trick is not necessarily getting as many allies as possible, it's getting as many Houses as possible to remain neutral that is the trick."

Immediately, his face contorted in confusion at his words, wondering what he meant with his words. No, he hadn't been going to lessons on politics for long, but it had been drummed into him that he needed as much support as possible. Yet here was the first member of his Kingsguard flat out telling him not to go down this route. It must've been obvious because he opened the small book Jon had been writing down notes in to try and come up with plans.

"Since we've been talking about the Reach often because they will be needed due to their agriculture and bountiful harvests- I'll use them as an example. Think who is bound to who, and which House is bound the most. There are the Redwyne's, there are the Tyrell's, there are the Hightower's, there are the Fossoway's, and on and on it goes. But as you've noted here, the Redwyne's are cousins to the Tyrell's and Olenna herself was a Redwyne before she married Luthor. Family bond, meaning they cannot fight on the opposite side due to honour. The same goes for the Hightower's as Alerie was one before she was wed to Mace. This is more recently in place through Garlan's marriage to Leonette Fossoway. If you go for one of the smaller three, you're only guaranteed the Tyrell's. But if you go for the Tyrell's due to the numerous links, you get the other three. 

"Aye, there are bonds to other Houses that probably won't support you, but this then means they have the choice to either be oath breaker's, loyalists, or remaining neutral. If they go with the first option, they face being displaced, which a lot will not want to risk. When you're a noble here, you need to take one thing into consideration definitively. A noble has little to gain but everything to lose, someone who isn't noble has everything to gain and nothing to lose. Am I being clear?"

His mouth opened just slightly, managing to catch himself before he began gaping in understanding. He wasn't saying to accept little support at all- he was telling him to make it difficult for other claimants to get support. Which makes the odds more even for him. How had he not considered that option before now? That was the opening he needed to begin making serious plans, and from the small smirk on the elder's face, he knew he realised what he was thinking now. 

"Ser Arthur, do you think it may be a possibility to get some Houses in the Stormlands? I've practically written them out, but if there is a way- "

"Everything is possible if it is done the correct way. You can immediately write off Estermont's and Baratheon's for obvious reasons due to familial bonds. But the others? Yes, I could see it. Especially the ones that are close to the Dornish border alongside the Crownlands border. Plus, what remains of Summerhall lies in said Kingdom."

Jon bit his lip hard before timidly asking his next question.

"Do you think the Selmy's might rally to my side through Barristan being an open supporter even though he is now sworn to the Baratheon's?"

Purple eyes met his own for a moment before turning away, the Knight sighing deeply as he tried to think on it.

"Barristan was the last person I ever would've pinned as switching sides. Aye, it was done because he didn't want to lose his life or be exiled. But one thing about being a Kingsguard means all beliefs are pushed to the side. It's life in servitude basically, guarding the royal family's back at all costs. He's a good man, and I do believe he would switch allegiances to your side if he knew you were Rhaegar's son- "

"I think he may piece it together. He came to Winterfell when Robert asked Ned to be his hand. He was charged to watch over Tyrion Lannister during one of the many feasts and he fell asleep in a barn. But I was practising, and he challenged me. He even offered to take me on as a squire. I almost accepted the offer, but my cousin falling from that tower compelled me to remain."

Shock immediately covered Arthur's face at these words. This was the first time he'd told anyone about the squiring offer he was made by the legendary Knight. A hand reached up to cover his mouth as he carefully thought it all over. 

"Barristan almost saw Rhaegar like a son of his own. Considering you do look a lot like him apart from the hair colour, it may be enough for the cogs to start turning in his head. He's a smart man. He's the Lord Commander of the Kingsguard, so he cannot just up and leave. It's a sworn brotherhood, exile if a member walks away without leave. And if he did leave, this leaves Ser Mandon Moore, Ser Meryn Trant, Ser Jaime Lannister, amongst others. The most influential will take the position, which would be- oh seven hells."

Arthur stood up from his seat and walked towards the bookshelf, tracing his fingers along the spines before pulling one down. 

"Ser?"

"If Barristan were to be given leave, the position would fall to Jaime Lannister. Cersei's twin brother and the man Tywin wants as his heir. Due to his twin being Queen, this could potentially give her the power to change the rules, meaning that he could be both his father's heir and being the commander. I don't condone what Jaime did, I squired him myself, it was me who knighted him. But he wanted to be a Kingsguard, gods, this will make the Old Lion furious."

With that, the older man walked from the room, leaving Jon wholly confused by whatever realisation he'd come to. He watched as he knocked on Howland's door before entering, audibly locking the door behind him meaning he wasn't getting an answer right away. He eyed the room now, his eyes always catching the tapestry that was hanging on the wall. It had been done by the Lord's great-grandmother, one of two things he had left of her. According to him, it had taken her three years to finish. Something he could see considering the sheer detail in it. He jumped a little as he felt a wet nose touch his palm and reaching back he was met with a lot of white fur. With that thought, he left the room, needing some time to himself. A few people looked towards him, a couple he recognised as the wargs Howland was asking to spy on Lords and Ladies of the other Kingdoms, wondering why they were being asked to do so. But neither said anything in fear of being dismissed. Before long, he was in the courtyard and heading for the drawbridge that would lower to the conjoined island, wasting no time in turning the key to give him access. 

It didn't take him long to find Rhaegon, his bright silver scales being obvious amongst the trees. He let out a screech before flying down to land on a rock in front of him. Horns were beginning to grow at the side of his head alongside spikes on his back and tail, but it would be much longer before they would be at a lethal stage. Jon reached his arm out and the dragon wasted no time in climbing onto it like a bird clinging to its owner as he searched for Lyrax. It took him nearly twenty minutes to do so considering her scales blended in well with the greenery. She was nestled by a small stream, snapping her jaws into the waves, and pulling out a small fish. A flame scorching the meat and devouring her meal earnestly. Rhaegon made a noise at this before flying over to join the other dragon who only now seemed to notice Jon.

"Skori gōntan ao rhaenagon lagon aōha havor?" (when did you start getting your own food?)

All he had to do was blink before he felt air being beat in his face from her wings. Reaching her head out for petting. Out the corner of his eye, he spotted the silver one copying what Lyrax was doing and a large smile came onto his face as he pulled a fish from the water. Much smaller than the one Lyrax had caught, but still a successful catch. Well, at least he wouldn't need to go down to the kitchens to ask for a bunch of raw meat for them and Ghost anymore, only the direwolf to worry about feeding. People were beginning to talk regarding it, not believing a wolf could eat that much food. But could he do so? If he suddenly stopped asking for much, this might make people talk, and that is the last thing he needed right now.

"Mēre tubis, nyke jāhor daor emagon naejot ruaragon ao lanta. Skori bona tubis māzigon, īlon jorrāelgon naejot gīmigon ziry. Vīlībāzma iksos māzis, se nyke jāhor sagon inkot ziry. Nyke jaelagon ao lanta ry nykeā sako skoriot nyke kostagon gaomagon ao skori ziry māzigon." (One day, I will not have to hide you two. When that day comes, we need to know it. War is coming, and I will be behind it. I want you two at a size where I can use you when it comes.)


	16. XV

Sansa I

Four months did not seem like much time at all. But one thing was for certain; the amount of stuff that had happened in the last four months made Sansa's head spin in every possible direction. That was how long it had been since they had left Winterfell to come to Kings Landing. It was a place she had been incredibly excited to come to, hearing all the songs and all the tales and just thinking of all the gallant Knight's walking through the streets making her heart soar. She was a young child, only thirteen name-days of age and had yet to have her first ever moonblood. A day she couldn't wait to come as that meant she would finally be deemed old enough to marry her betrothed.

Joffrey was everything she and Jeyne gossiped over since they were around seven name-days of age. Tall, handsome, beautiful smile, sparkling eyes, and a high-ranking title to go with it. A title only four people held in Westeros. Himself, his younger brother Tommen, and the Dornish Prince's- but she didn't consider the latter as such. The thought of a Prince being the highest position one could hold was foreign to her, every book and song said that King was the highest position a person could hold- a position that only his father Robert held. The King- left little to be desired. When he first walked through the gates at Winterfell, she'd expected a tall a muscly male to come galloping in with his famous war hammer strapped to his back. Instead she was met with a drunk who gave no regard to his Queen. 

It disgusted her, because a man was always meant to treat a Lady with respect- Septa Mordane said so. It was well known that if a Lady obeyed and loved her husband, her husband would treat her the same way back. Yet seeing that blatant display set her stomach turning uncomfortably, especially seeing the uninterested look on the Queen's face- clearly used to such shenanigans to not react to it. The city was everything she had dreamed it would be. White and cream houses lining the streets with multicoloured roofs, Knight's riding through the streets proudly wearing the crests of the Houses they belonged to, vendors on the streets selling an array of materials and food.

But the smell.

Sansa had managed to keep her face still until she was in the bedroom she'd chosen in the tower of the Hand, on the floor two below where her father was staying- and then she had promptly ran to her chamber pot and retched in a very unladylike manner. Her mother would be furious if she saw her act like this, but she was alone, nobody was there to watch over her. It took her three days to get used to the lingering smell of shit and piss, but it was still on her mind to this day. Today, Joffrey had invited to give her an official tour around the entire city. She'd seen parts of it but not much- and excited was putting it lightly. She was going to get to spend the entire day with her golden Prince!

She hadn't seen Arya that morning, nor had she seen her any morning over the past month. She was always up seemingly before the sun rose over the Blackwater to go to dancing lessons. An activity she never thought the younger would partake in as she was always for everything a Lady should be strictly against. But it got her out of her sight as it was her fault Lady had been killed. If Arya had not befriended the damned butcher's boy and had not attacked Joffrey back, she would still have her. The younger was disgusted with her for reasons unknown to her, she had far gotten past the point of getting along with her wild sister. Shaking her head to rid herself of such thoughts, Sansa eyed the crimson red and yellow dress she had decided to wear in honour of her betrothed. 

Wearing the colours of his House was strange to her, the red clashing greatly with her brightly coloured hair, but she had to please him. All women had to please their intended. It wouldn't do her good to be set aside as then she would just be labelled 'the rejected Queen'- and Sansa couldn't have that. She was going to be Queen one day. Standing beside her golden lion atop the Iron Throne, having numerous sons and daughters with him, living a life of luxury, and being in a position that was untouchable- it was all her dreams coming true at once. 

"My Lady, I've been sent to escort you to meet with the Prince."

She jumped as the voice registered, the Hound still frightening her greatly. His sheer height, muscles, hard looks already being menacing enough. The scars that covered half of his face only adding to it all. He was wearing his characteristics armour and carrying his very noticeable helm with his elbow.

"I can make my own way Ser- "

"None of that girl. I've been commanded to escort you, and it is not a good idea to refuse a command from the crowned Prince."

Sansa frowned just slightly at his words, wondering what that meant. Surely it would show she was independent and had fully accepted the Red Keep as her home if she did so? But she wasn't going to argue with the Clegane, so she dutifully followed him. By now, Sansa knew her way around much of the castle, but she knew she was an idiot to say she knew everything about the castle. Monarchy was drummed into her from a young age, could name all Kings there had been alongside their Queens, and all their children. Aegon I began the building of the castle, his son Maegor to his sister Visenya finishing it. The man in question then killing everyone who was used to build the castle so its secrets could never be revealed.

"I'd be honoured to, Ser."

"Don't call me Ser girl, I ain't no Knight."

Her face frowned in confusion for only a moment before following him down the staircase to the bottom level of the castle. Paintings on the walls showing members of Houses Baratheon and Lannister back numerous generations- probably had portraits of the Targaryen's before Robert ascended to the throne after winning the war. She had taken care to have her hair styled as intricately as the Queen's. Wanting to show her loyalty to them by mimicking her. Eyes glancing to the ground for a split second as she remembered the look the golden-haired woman had given her when she put the thought into her husbands mind to have Lady killed. Queen Cersei had always been kind to her, had treated her brilliantly in fact, almost as well as her own daughter Myrcella. 

The Hound led her to the main courtyard where she noticed the gate was opened to the outside, a gold and red wheelhouse waiting for them to take them around the city. She wondered where he was going to take her? Hopefully to the Street of Silk so she could get some new sewing supplies. She had been running low for a while and didn't want to ask the Princess for some in case it insulted the younger. 

"Away with you dog, leave me with my Lady for the day. I'll whistle on you when we're finished."

The Hound's lips tightened marginally before nodding his head and walking away. Joffrey reached his hand out for her to take which she did with a slight blush on her face, curtseying politely to her betrothed before kissing the back of his hand as was expected of her. Sansa was glad they would not be riding, her hating the way it felt to feel a saddle rubbing against her thighs. She wasn't like Arya, who at times made her think she had been born atop a horse- something those in Winterfell said about aunt Lyanna. Everyone said she was a lot like her in both looks and in personality. The redhead shook her head to rid herself of such thoughts.

"Where will be headed, my Prince?"

The smile that came from him had butterflies erupting in her stomach and gooseflesh to bubble underneath her skin. How did Robb, Jon, and Arya see anything other than gallant in him? He showered her with flowers, jewellery, gifts, and too many lemon cakes to count. 

"First we will head into the Street of Steel, I've got a new crossbow being crafted that I need to pick up. Then we will go through the markets where you can get everything you would like, my Lady. We will go around behind Flea Bottom to the Street of Silk, before finally heading to the Sept of Baelor. I would like to pay my respects to Lord Jon Arryn's resting place."

Her heart jolted a little as he spoke about the last Hand, her uncle through marriage to her mother's sister. The sister she had never met before, who had fled not long after he had died from a sudden sickness. She'd been excited to meet her, her mother spoke about her younger siblings often- not always with high respect, but fondly. 

Sansa had never been to the Street of Steel before, and it was both everything and nothing like she had expected. Numerous stalls on either side, with the blacksmiths and their apprentices working hard. Multiple weapons strewn on the wooden tables in varying designs. They got out of the wheelhouse now, glad that the scent was obscured with the scent of burning fires from the forges. They walked further up the street, Sansa noticing that the higher up they got on the hill, the larger and grander the shops became. By the time they got to the top, the two shops on either side were the size of Winterfell's courtyard. Her eyes were wide as she saw the decoration, surprised that a shop could look like this. Clearly, this place was somewhere only the richest could afford. 

"My Prince, how may I help you today?"

Sansa looked down to the ground, knowing it was not right for a highborn to look a lowborn in the eye. Something that Arya hated- another thing that alienated her from her younger sister. 

"I asked for a new crossbow to be commissioned a month prior, I received word that it was completed, Tobho Mott."

The older man tilted his head and made a humming noise.

"Gendry! Bring out the crossbow we've been working on!"

The boy who responded was tall, that was the first thing Sansa noticed. Much taller than Joffrey, but not as tall as the King. With hair black as night and eyes so blue they seemed to sparkle against his ivory skin. He walked over to them carrying an ornate box decorated with red, orange, and yellow gemstones, with bits of metal intricately placed amongst the wood to show a lion on one side and a stag on the other. The two sides of his family, although he had no Baratheon traits in him look-wise. Then again, she was one to talk as if no one knew her name, no one would guess her to be a Stark. Sansa looked Tully through and through, just like Arya looked Stark through and through.

Why was she thinking about her sister so much today? Blinking, she noticed that Joffrey had opened the box to examine the weapon, the boy who had handed it over looking to the ground with his hands clasped behind his back- waiting on approval for the work. Despite not taking much notice in weapons as she was a girl, even she couldn't deny that the crossbow was a work of art. It was carved with what appeared to be mahogany, polished in a deep red that reminded her greatly of blood, with gemstones lining it all over. Beside it, there were a few arrows and her eyes widened slightly at recognising the material used.

"These arrows are tipped with Valyrian steel."

Joffrey gave her an odd look at this, whilst the blacksmith was glancing to her inquisitively.

"I'm surprised a girl knows what Valyrian steel looks like- "

"My father has a sword. I'd recognise that almost black shade with pale blue ripples anywhere."

The boy- Gendry- she reminded herself, looked her directly in the eye for a split second before looking to the ground again. From the corner of her eye, she spotted Joffrey's lip curl in tightly. Clearly angry at her for speaking outside what was expected of her. She stumbled out an apology quickly before commenting on the weapon. Obviously, this man was one of the few people who know how to rework the ancient steel. There were less than one hundred who did if what Maester Luwin taught her was correct. 

"May I know your name? This truly is splendid work."

The boy looked Joffrey in the face for a moment before looking away again, clearly knowing his station as a lowborn.

"Gendry Waters, my Lord."

Sansa's stomach did a flip at this. Waters- the name given to bastards of the Crownlands. She watched as Joffrey gave the blacksmith a seething look at this, something she had not seen on him before.

"You let a bastard work on my weapon?!"

The blacksmith simply shrugged, not falling for the bait.

"He's my best apprentice, my Prince. He lives in my home above the shop with me as his mother died when he was young, and he has no idea who his father is. All he knows is that his father was a highborn looking for a good night with a golden-haired whore."

Her stomach tightened more now at the way her betrothed was speaking, spitting the word bastard like it was the worst thing in existence. She herself went by this thought process, had scorned her cousin for it for most of his life. Except, Jon wasn't a bastard at all was he? He's the male heir to House Targaryen. Sansa paused for a moment as these words sank in for her. She had never thought to herself this was the case. Had been adamant that if he were to claim the throne, it would be the rebellion come again. Her mother's words circulating in her head.

Robert Baratheon is a proud man, and to him a rejection is an act of war. In his mind, he does nothing wrong. This is not a good trait to have. Starting a war to get back a woman who didn't want him was stupid, incredibly so. He was lucky in a sense that people were blocking letters being sent to confirm everything which caused Brandon to act recklessly. Yes, this is what started the war, and the rules of conquest are clear which does invalidate a claim for Jon and legitimises the Baratheon's. However, proud Houses who lost men in this war may take it as insult if it gets out that the war was based on a false truth, which could potentially make them openly rebel with the King and Queen. If this is the case, it invalidates their claim and makes Jon's valid. It's a tricky situation.

"Forgive me, my Prince, my Lady. I will not work on weapons for the royal family again."

Sansa accepted the apology immediately as was befitting a Lady before watching Joffrey carefully pack his new weapon into the wheelhouse which had been rode up the hill to meet them. Something she was glad about as her legs were cramping from climbing up such a steep hill. From where they were, she could see the top of Visenya's hill, where the Sept of Baelor stood. Said to be the grandest Sept in all the Kingdoms- although Oldtown would beg to differ. Built over the destroyed Sept there was before that was destroyed by Maegor after the Faith Militant began revolting against their line. 

"How far away are the markets, my Prince?"

The tall boy sat beside her gave her another dazzling smile her way before replying it would take approximately twenty minutes to ride there. She was quiet the entire ride down the hill where they took a left to go down the street parallel to the Street of Steel which wasn't going up a steep hill. The first thing that caught her attention were the numerous scents. From perfume, to food, to shops unique scents to try and lure in customers. The second thing that did was just how busy it was. Sansa never travelled much, had only gone to a couple of towns in the North and once to White Harbour with her father to visit Lord Manderly. White Harbour was the largest city in the North- many people considered it to be the only city. But compared to this, it was like a village. 

To her right were a bunch of children rushing and pushing past people playing cat and mouse. To her left were a mixture of highborn and lowborn mingling, or possibly it was lowborn posing as highborn. It wasn't uncommon knowledge that everyone strives to better themselves. In front of her were crowds so huge that if she didn't know better- she would've assumed it to have been a small army. In amongst all the hustle and bustle, she spotted the gold cloaks of the City Watch. She'd become accustomed with a few of them as there were many within the walls of the Red Keep. Then her eyes landed on a flower stall, and she couldn't stop herself before rushing over to take them all in. Momentarily forgetting that it was rude to not ask her betrothed for permission to do so, and when she did remember, her cheeks heated up as she muttered out apologies to Joffrey.

Lilacs, lilies, daisies, sunflowers, snowdrops. Too many for her to count, and way too many for her to admire. All arranged from largest at the back to smallest at the front, and from left to right arranged in such a way it looked like a rainbow. Nervously, she cast a side-glance to the Prince who once again gave her one of his dashing smiles before asking her if she would like some. Sansa tried her best to hide her growing smile at the gesture, feeling butterflies in her stomach once more. 

"Ah, a Northern gal. Don't get many of you lot down south."

She jumped at the strong accent that the shopkeeper presented. Her bright blue eyes looking the woman in the face before remembering it was rude for someone highborn to look someone lowborn directly in the eye. 

"That would be your future Queen, woman. Apologise now."

The last two words almost came out as a growl, and the redhead frowned in confusion. What was he asking her to apologise for? She hadn't said anything insulting- had she? She managed to keep her face relatively impassive but couldn't stop her lips curling in ever so slightly in embarrassment. By now, she knew there were numerous eyes on them, and it made Sansa feel like a toddler in trouble. A feeling she knew well as Arya had a knack for blaming her nasty pranks on her. Or more like when she couldn't get away with blaming Robb or Bran. 

"Apologies, my Lady, I did not mean to be rude. It's just that we received a shipment of seeds from White Harbour a month prior we've been growing."

Her right eyebrow ticked a little, growing more confused. The woman walked to the back before emerging with a flowerpot. But it wasn't this that caught her attention. What did was the bright blue rose that was growing out of the soil. Sansa's eyes widened massively upon seeing it, not realising until now how much she'd missed seeing these in Winterfell's glass gardens.

"I'd imagine you've seen plenty of these, my Lady?"

Joffrey turned to her now, and from the small nod knew he was giving her permission.

"Indeed. We grow them in the glass gardens as it's way too cold to grow them outdoors. They were always one of my favourites. My father used to tell me I reminded him of his own sister with my fascination over them."

Out the corner of her eye, Sansa spotted the way Joffrey's eye twitched. Clearly not pleased with her answer. She handed over a single silver stag which the woman tried to deny by saying it was too much but the younger was adamant. She picked a few others and watched as the woman arranged her a beautiful bouquet, making sure the winter rose was in the centre of it all to really showcase its beauty. They stayed in the markets for around another hour. Getting some food, strolling around a couple of shops, and picking up a new dress in a forest green shade- her betrothed said it made her red hair pop even more. 

Ever since she was a young girl, she'd heard people talk about how lovely the Street of Silk was. To say she was disappointed was an understatement. There was perhaps three feet distance between each shop and everyone was crowded so tightly she felt like she was being crushed alive. Sansa hated tight spaces, always had. When she had developed this fear, she could not say. She'd had it for as long as she could remember. Joffrey was giving her curious glances but he didn't say anything. Not that she would've heard him anyway, as there were too many noises surrounding her it was difficult to focus. After a few moments, she felt the older boy lace his hand within hers as he pulled her over to a shop that had so much decoration on the outside it gave off a severe air of bragging.

It was something she'd known for a long time, because she had a lot of bragging rights. She is one of two people who can say they are next in line to be the Lady of Winterfell. Inside was much the same as the outside. Numerous gemstones, precious metals, Myrish glass, and much more. Anything and everything only the richest could afford. Something caught her eye though, a section of silk. From where Sansa was standing, she could tell it wasn't ordinary silk. Slowly, she walked over to it and Joffrey noticed her current fascination.

"Have you ever seen Myrish silk before, my Lady? It's incredibly rare to come by as they make only a couple of hundred rolls a year. It's incredibly sought after in Essos by Magister's and Master's alike."

Sansa's heart leaped a little at the second group mentioned. She wasn't stupid, she paid attention in her classes unlike Arya who would rather climb up hundred-foot trees with Bran and ride her horse through rivers and puddles of mud. Slavery was common in Essos, the only city who had it completely outlawed was Braavos- a city built up from the ground by escaped slaves from the Valyrian Freehold. Carefully, she unrolled some of it so she could feel the material in question. It felt like nothing. So light and so delicately woven it just slid through her fingers much like water does. 

"How much does this cost?"

She asked the question to the shopkeeper who she noticed was keeping a close eye on her. From his tanned skin, she knew he was either Dornish or from somewhere in Essos. Possibly even the Summer Isles. 

"Twenty gold dragons per square metre, my Lady."

Her eyes widened in surprise. This stuff was expensive. Not that she couldn't afford it, but that was more than triple what regular silk was. But Sansa ached to have a roll of this, wanted to make a dress out of it so she could look the part more as future Queen of the Seven Kingdoms. 

"We shall take three rolls; my betrothed can pick whichever colours she wishes."

If she didn't feel like a giddy child beforehand, she felt like she was dancing on the seventh cloud now. She was going to get her own roll, but she wasn't going to turn down her golden Prince's offer. So, Sansa picked out three colours. One in red, one in yellow, and one in a deep navy that had silver sparkles interwoven to the point it glittered whenever the light hit it. 

"At least you shall be protected my Lady, from any knives in the back with this."

Confusion settled in as she eyed the shopkeeper oddly, taking care not to look him directly in the eye. It was Joffrey that answered though.

"Myrish silk is known to be woven in such a way that a knife cannot penetrate it. Well, not much. I remember when my mother gifted Myrcella some a couple of years prior. Brought in one of the pigs that was about to be butchered down and demonstrated it to us all. Without the silk, the knife embedded into the hilt. With the silk, it only embedded in around an inch. I doubt it would work with a sword though."

The shopkeeper simply nodded to confirm his silent question as they walked outside. Now heading towards the famous Sept of Baelor. Sansa was of the North, therefore she prayed more to the Old Gods than she did the New. However, she felt like she connected more with her mother's gods, and her mother always said this Sept was the grandest she had ever visited. Her parents had married in a Sept- the one built within Riverrun. The double marriage between Eddard Stark and Catelyn Tully, alongside Lysa Tully and Jon Arryn. As they were on the opposite side of the city from there, they climbed back into the wheelhouse. She looked all around her from the windows, familiarising herself with the city more. Only gagging momentarily as they passed Flea Bottom where the stench of shit was at its worst. 

The building blew her away as soon as she took it in. Seven towers with a glass dome in the centre. The Seven-Pointed-Star etched in between each tower and a door from every side. Easily one hundred feet in height and with bricks so bright the light bouncing off it almost blinded her. People were spilling out from the doors from their prayers and others were walking inside to pray themselves. Whether that be to the mother, the father, the stranger, the crone, the maiden, the smith, or the warrior. She took the arm offered to her as she was led inside, the interior even grander than outside. The stairs were carpeted in the richest velvet, deep blue in colour with gold designs etched inside. At the balcony, she realised with a shock that it was built into the hill and not simply sitting atop it. In front of her was a tower in the centre, attaching to the glass dome which she realised when looking up must've had crystal in it as little rainbows were bouncing off the walls inside. A small pathway leading from the balcony into the tower.

"That's the room where they take a body so the family can grieve in peace. The floor below this is where bodies are cremated after being blessed with the seven oils by Septas and Septons. The lowest floors is where the ashes are scattered from the royal family. Almost all Targaryen's remains are there, others on Dragonstone in their own Sept."

Once again, Sansa's stomach turned in knots. A part of her wanted to show off with her knowledge of the royal family, but another part of her felt sick as technically Rhaegar was her uncle. Were his remains here? Were his children's remains here? 

"I heard from your Septa that you can name every member there has ever been of the royal family. Care to put it to use, my Lady?"

She wanted to say no, badly. But she couldn't refuse him. He was her betrothed, was to be her husband and her King one day. Be the mother of his children. So, Sansa nodded and plastered on a smile as she was led to the lowest floors. Being down so far reminded her greatly of the Winterfell crypts- which she hated to visit. Seeing all the statues of the dead with their swords and their tombs just staring at her made her incredibly uneasy. She hadn't visited for a long time, still remembering the last time she had as Jon had jump scared her covered in flour pretending to be a ghost. She hadn't even looked at him for days for that. 

But here? There were no menacing statues staring at her with their stone eyes. Nor were there any ancient swords balanced on their laps that with a couple of minutes with a whetstone would be sharp enough to cut through her body. Here there was simply plaques stating who was buried here and a little bit about them. When they were born, when they died, how they died, who their parents were, if they were a dragonrider which dragon they rode. Sansa did just as she was asked, name as many as she could from their descriptions as Joffrey was hiding the engraved names with his hands. She got them all correct, Joffrey clearly impressed from the raised eyebrows at her knowledge. But it was the one at the end which made her feel violently ill. 

Born during the tragedy of Summerhall to King Aerys II and Queen Rhaella Targaryen. Elder brother to Viserys and Daenerys Targaryen. Called the last dragon. Died from pierced lungs from a crushed ribcage from a Warhammer by King Robert Baratheon on the banks of the Trident. Began a war due to taking the Lady Lyanna Stark of Winterfell from her betrothed without her consent.

In her mind, she was reading the last part repeatedly. It was wrong, so wrong. Rhaegar and Lyanna eloped, and she went willingly. Where she died giving birth to their son who was raised in the same building as she was. 

"My father's greatest achievement. Killing Rhaegar Targaryen. Even to this day he boasts in detail of the moment he struck him in the chest with his spiked war hammer. From the way his eyes widened, to the way he fell from his horse into the river which was littered with rubies from his armour. To the look they gave one another."

From the glint now in his eye, Sansa finally saw. She should've done so a long time ago but she was so determined to better herself and to ignore everyone else that she ignored it. Joffrey was glad this had happened- he wouldn't even be alive if it hadn't happened. Robert only married Cersei because Lyanna had died in childbed. If things turned out differently, who would she have ended up with? Viserys Targaryen? Willas Tyrell? Perhaps even her own cousin Robyn Arryn? There was no way for her to know. They stayed for another hour or so before making their way back to the wheelhouse which was waiting to take them back to the Red Keep. Thoughts running through her mind as she finally understood her mother's words about just how tricky this all was. The only comfort there was, was that Jon had promised her he wasn't going to press on his claim and he would respect the match if she were happy. 

Eddard VI

Eddard was never someone who hid things from people- especially from his family. The only thing he ever did keep to himself was Jon's identity but it was out now amongst them. But now he had a lot more he had to keep to himself. However, he couldn't hide the small smirk of pride from coming onto his face at the ruse they'd come up with. Making it look like Jon was taking the black and was lost was a stroke of genius. Whether he had thought of it himself or if someone had helped him, he had no idea. But he had to make it look like he had just found out.

"Another raven, Lord Hand? I didn't imagine you would be so popular."

Anger whirled inside of him as he eyed the small man. Ever since he'd found out he'd challenged Brandon for Catelyn's hand and bragged that he had taken her maidenhood when he hadn't- he distrusted the man greatly.

"A man cannot correspond with his family often, Lord Baelish?"

He laughed before giving him a quizzical glance. Following him down the corridor to the stairs that led to the tower he was residing in. He had to make it believable, meaning he had to tell the girls. Arya would be heart broken. He was unsure about Sansa though.

"I received a raven two months past informing me my second eldest had taken the black. I've just received a raven from the Lord Commander offering condolences as he hasn't come back from a ranging nor have any of the others who went with him. They think he's dead. First my brother, and now my son. I'm on my way to tell my daughters."

Petyr didn't have anything clever to say to that, and he diverted and went down another corridor as he walked up the many stairs. Many servants passed him alongside a few guards, but neither paid him any attention as he finally got to his floor. Ned licked his lips and sighed deeply before knocking on both of his daughter's doors. Arya was spinning on the spot with the tiny sword he'd let her keep, and Sansa was seemingly gossiping with Jeyne as both girls were giggling- probably over the redhead's day out earlier in the week with the Prince. But when they saw his face, they knew something was up. The redhead signalled for her friend to leave which she did without question as they followed Ned into his room.

"Girls, I haven't been completely honest with either of you the past two months. I received a letter from your mother informing me that Jon had decided to join the Night's Watch as a sworn brother, and he did."

Arya immediately opened her mouth to protest but with a stern look from him, she backed down. He clasped his hands and tried to ignore the thumping of his heart over the lie he was about to tell. Once the truth was out, he swore he wouldn't lie again. But he had to, for all their sakes.

"I received this raven this morning. It's from the Lord Commander."

He didn't say anything further than this, simply handed the parchment over to them so they could read what was on there. Once they had finished, Arya immediately began crying and ran from the room. There was no point in stopping her, she was way too fast for him. He'd found that out the hard way.

"Sansa, I know you weren't close with him. But he loved you dearly. He always saw you as nothing but his little sister."

Her stern expression cracked a little at this and he was left floored as she immediately began crying as well. He had expected her to be cold about this or to just get on with it, he hadn't expected for her to have the same reaction as her sister. He sat down beside her and pulled her small head into his chest, rubbing circles into her back to try and calm her down.

"I- I never got to tell him I'm sorry. I've been thinking a lot since everything that happened with Lady and now he's gone!"

A fresh round of tears left her and soon his cotton shirt was soaked through. But he made no move to let her go. Thoughts were racing through his head as this was the first time she had openly spoke about what had happened to her wolf with him.

"I'll bitterly regret what happened to Lady for the rest of my life baby girl. But she didn't deserve to be made into a pelt for the Queen to wear. She's of the North, she-wolfs belong there."

"Like aunt Lyanna?"

He bit his lip at this, remembering her pleads to keep her son safe. Yet here he was lying to his own daughter to keep said son safe. Could he trust her not to blab?

"Yes. King Robert wanted to bury her on a hill with the sun and clouds above her and cover her tomb with red roses. I refused him, she asked Wylla to tell me she wanted to be buried with our parents and Brandon."

"Wylla was his wet nurse wasn't she?"

All he could do was nod. Hardly anyone knew that apart from the Dayne's as they were in on it alongside those in Winterfell before he was weaned onto solid foods.

"Meet me in the Godswood in an hour, Sansa. I know you connect more with your mother's gods, but you're still of the North."

He'd decided he was going to tell her the truth. From her reaction, he knew she cared for him. She nodded before leaving to go into her own room. Once he was in solitude, he let out a long sigh.

"Old gods help me please. Please don't let anything else happen to my family."

He only added the last part in case someone was listening in. It didn't seem like there was, but he didn't want to chance it. All it takes is one person to overhear for it to be game over. Jon was going to press on his claim. He'd been receiving ravens from him, but not frequently as they had to send it to the watch first before redirecting it to the capital. Adding extra days onto the raven's journey. The most recent one confirming the dragons had settled in a cave close to Greywater Watch. Plus, they were nearing the size of ponies. It would've taken around three weeks for the raven to arrive here from him, meaning that in only three months they had grown to this size. As usual, the Godswood was deserted. The only family who worshipped the Old Gods were the Blackwood's in the Riverland's. Sansa's bright red hair caught his attention quickly as he sat down beside her. He noticed she was holding tightly onto a bracelet.

"Where did you get that?"

Gently, she handed it to him and he examined it. He'd seen this mark before, from the jeweller of Wintertown.

"Jon gave it to me before he left."

"Jon isn't dead, Sansa."

The words didn't hit her for quite some time but eventually she looked to him with a hurt expression.

"Hear me out. Something happened, something impossible. And it meant Jon could no longer remain in Winterfell. Robb, your mother, and Jon came up with a ruse to make it look like he was dead to avoid suspicion. He didn't take the black, he's in Greywater Watch with Howland Reed."

She was silent for a few minutes as she let the words process in her head. What did this mean? What could've happened to have her brothers and mother stage a mummery?

"What happened, father?"

At her question, he breathed deeply and wrung his fingers tightly together. Trying to think of a way to soften the blow but there quite frankly was not a simple way to say this.

"The eggs hatched. Two live dragons emerged. He named them Lyrax and Rhaegon. He isn't going to press on any claim any time soon, so you don't need to worry. He didn't realise they would hatch, he described it as being a throbbing voice in his head. It happened during the fire with the assassination attempt on Bran. He believes the deaths of the assassin and the librarian caused an effect that allowed dragons to be reborn. Your mother validated it, as did Robb and Bran. Howland has as well, alongside Jeor Mormont and Ser Alliser Thorne. They've all sworn themselves to secrecy on the matter. Can you swear it to me too? If this gets out Sansa, it will lead to all our heads on spikes, I'm not going to sugar-coat it to you. This is an incredibly dangerous situation."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Arya will be finding out in the next chapter, both this one and that will coincide with one another. Sansa isn’t the only one going to find out


	17. XVI

Arya I

The first time Syrio had tasked Arya in catching a cat, she had almost laughed at him in the face. It was such a random task and she had no idea how that corresponded to sword fighting. She had wanted to disobey him by hiding in a corner somewhere to watch the Knights spar when they had spare time. But something about going against her dancing master did not sit right with her. It wasn't the refusing orders part that was doing it as she'd done that plenty of times. She'd lost count a long time ago of the lessons Septa Mordane gave them all. But with her, all she got was a reprimand and in extreme cases a slap on the wrist. Going against a seasoned warrior was something else though.

So, she did what was asked of her. It took her a while to find a cat as she wanted to remain close to the castle in the event she couldn't find one inside the castle. She didn't want to chase after Prince Tommen's ginger feline as the animal was kind with her and came up to her. Arya wanted a challenge. It took her days to find the one she was going to set her eyes on, but when she did, she knew. A black stray near the kitchens that regularly terrorised the kitchen staff. Reminding her of the wild stray that lurked in the servant's quarters in Winterfell that seemingly only accepted her.

Fur as black as night, eyes greener than the Queen's, with patches showing his skin covering its body, and missing an ear to top it all off. When she told Syrio of the one she was going to try to catch, he had simply chuckled merrily at her before striking her with his wooden sword. She was getting good, now being able to hold out for longer than a few minutes against the man, but never being able to corner or disarm him. She'd only started learning a few weeks prior, and she wondered if this was how quickly her brothers had picked it up. Robb was a great swordsman, but Jon was a brilliant swordsman. Ever since he'd bested Ser Rodrik that day, he'd never been beaten by anyone. 

Tears sprung at her eyes as she remembered what her father had told her a few days prior. Why did he go to the Wall? He was a Prince. He had a higher claim than the Lannister's and the Baratheon's. A part of her wanted to blame Sansa for her open support of the King and Queen, but somehow she knew she wouldn't have convinced him into doing it. Had her mother done it? Perhaps if it were before he turned sixteen, but once they knew the truth, she warmed up to him. It was obvious there was tension between the pair, but there was also a begrudging respect somewhere too. He must've made his mind up a long time ago and had decided to go anyway. 

And now he was presumed dead- alongside their uncle Benjen.

She'd never get to leap on him again, have him toss her hair to annoy her, race her around the castle, have him secretly teach her how to sword fight with Robb. It hurt, a lot. At least she got to say goodbye to him. A noise caught her attention and she turned to face the black feline she'd set her eyes on. She had been trying to catch it for a week now, and she had failed every single time. The more she did, the more embarrassed she got. But Syrio taught her she needed to have patience and that things aren't always as easy as they appear. Quiet as a shadow.

Steadily, she walked towards it, remaining on her tiptoes to lower the sound of her feet. Keeping in the shadows of the suits of armour, other decorations, and the dark corridor to hide herself. Taking care to breathe through her mouth very lightly and there was barely a sound coming from her. But it heard her, causing her to curse in her head and begin to chase after the animal. Completely ignoring the remaining quiet portion. Servants gave her odd looks as she did so, but Arya paid them no mind. Focusing solely on herself, and the path to catch the beast. 

She chased after it for what felt like hours, never looking up to see where she was exactly. But soon she came to a corner, smirking to herself at finally cornering the animal. She bent down to pick it up, but the moment she gripped its sides, it clawed frantically at her causing her to let it go which allowed it to escape again. Ignoring the stinging in her skin where its claws had broken through a layer and the dripping blood now on her from the puncture marks in question, she ran after it. The cat ran behind a tapestry and she pulled it away to catch it- and was met with a hidden tunnel. Peering down into it, she could see the bright green eyes. Almost like it were inviting her inside.

Arya looked both ways to see if there was anyone around, and once she was certain there wasn't, she climbed inside and began crawling down the tunnel. It only went on for a few metres before opening in what appeared to be a cave. Frowning, she jumped down and looked around her. She could barely see anything due to how dark it was in here, and again silently cursed to herself for choosing to chase after a black cat that could easily hide inside the shadows. Why did she chose this one? Perhaps it was because it was different, like she was. She was the only one of her siblings to have taken the Stark look apart from Jon- but he was her cousin. But she would always see him as her older brother. 

Then she caught those eyes again, and she raced after it. Now ignoring the fact that she was making a racket as she did. All she was focused on was grabbing the beast. Enough was enough with this, she wanted to prove herself to Syrio. However, the chamber the cat led her too immediately took her breath away. The feline crawled behind the bone and promptly fell asleep. At first, Arya thought it was ivory. Then she thought it was marble. But when she eyed it fully, she yelped a little and jumped back. A skull, and not just any skull. A dragon skull. She'd heard they used to decorate the throne room in the Red Keep, but she simply assumed they had been destroyed after the rebellion. Yet here they were, in all their glory. 

Tentatively, she reached a hand to touch it, the material rough under her fingertips. She walked in front and gulped at the sheer size of the skull. What one did this belong to? She looked around and spotted something nailed underneath the chin. Bending down, she was able to read the words. Immediately, her eyes widened in excitement. Vhagar, the very dragon Visenya had ridden. One of the three that was used to conquer Westeros. There were two beside it, and she had a feeling who these two belonged to. Checking under the chins of these she found she was correct. Balerion and Meraxes. On and on it went, dozens of them. Arya never realised there were once this many dragons, clearly a lot of them did not have riders. As she went down the line, she noticed they were getting smaller and smaller, the last one barely being the size of her own head. Then she heard footsteps.

Arya snapped her head towards where she heard it, and noticed a flickering light indicating a torch. She looked around her looking for somewhere to hide, but she came up empty handed. She ran along the skulls and crouched inside the one that belonged to the black dread, making sure her entire body was covered by the teeth and the jaw. Her heart was beating wildly in her chest and she hoped it wasn't audible.

"What news of the boy, Illyrio?"

She frowned at the name, not recognising it in any way. But she knew the voice that was speaking. That was none other than Varys. Was this Illyrio one of his famed little birds? 

"He is doing well. The plan to use the Blackfyre trick worked my friend, and he has been able to recruit the golden. He is rallying further armies as we speak. How goes it with the northern dragon?"

What? Did he just say Blackfyre? From his words, she knew he wasn't referring to the lost sword of Aegon the conqueror. Meaning he was referring to the Targaryen lesser branch. Weren't they all dead? From her history lessons, she knew that Ser Barristan had slayed Maelys himself in single combat. Thus, ending decades of rebellions of them trying to take over as they didn't believe Daeron II was a legitimate son himself and therefore had no claim to the throne. But then she caught the trick portion, meaning there was a boy being passed off as a Blackfyre. Who would do such a thing though?

"Last I heard the northern one is remaining somewhere secluded. I must say, the staging of a mummery was a stroke of genius. The only dragon they're worried about is the girl because she is with child. Yet there are actually two dragons in Essos and one already in Westeros."

The words made no sense to Arya. Her father had told her Jon was missing, the Lord Commander had confirmed it in a raven. Even Robb had confirmed it! Mummery? Why would anyone stage a death? She had to listen in further.

"I've got to say, I never would've expected the quiet wolf to take in a dragon babe. Nephew or not, the family did hurt the wolves on numerous occasions and have a sour taste to most Northerners."

"Aye, that is true. When my little birds near Mole's Town confirmed that the boy let it slip in a bout of anger, I reacted rather brashly. However, this holds an advantage in our plans. And I've also heard another song from my informants, one that is both terrifying and wonderful."

By now, they were only a couple of metres from her, and Arya crouched down as far as she could. Ignoring the stinging in her thighs as she did so. 

"The northern dragon was gifted dragon eggs by the old Maester at Castle Black a few months prior. But apparently the boy did not turn up at the castle with eggs, he turned up with two hatchlings. Lyrax and Rhaegon he's named them. One a blinding silver with red and black wings, the other a deep blue with grey swirls and wings. Our own dragon has an egg himself, and you gifted the girl with three at her wedding. I wonder if they will follow suit."

Her jaw dropped and she covered her mouth with her hand as she breathed heavily for a few moments. Did he just say what she thinks he did? Jon's eggs had hatched? He had dragons? The man that was with Varys turned to him stunned, his weight very much reminding her of a massive ball. She had thought Wyman Manderly was fat, but this was something else. It was impressive the man could even move. 

"What is the boy playing at exactly? He is entering an incredibly dangerous game and he's got almost no experience- "

"I believe the boy plans on pressing his claim at some point. Hence why this mummery was set in place. Make it look like he is off the map so no one will think about him which buys him time to watch and learn. Whilst also giving him time for his dragons to grow. He offers a fantastic strategic position as through him the North and the Riverlands will fall into line. Over half the continent through one person. A raven has been sent to Griff to explain everything so our own dragon is aware."

They were now looking around at all the skulls in awe, and she knew why. Arya felt anger build up in her over it all. She'd always been closest to Jon growing up, him understanding her the best. Why stage a mummery? Why had she not been made aware? Was her father in on it? If so he had deliberately held information from her and that was something she hated with a passion.

"For someone who has little political training, it's a fantastic first move. And as our own is now going to be made aware that he has a brother, are we to bring this other dragon into it?"

"It would probably do good to make him aware. But either way they're not going to take it well dear friend. I think we should wait on a response from our own before we alert the other. Anyway, our dragon is rallying armies and plans to go and find the girl. She is with the Dothraki and they never stay in the same place for longer than a few days unless they're visiting Vaes Dothrak. Depending on how far she is into her pregnancy, she may not be there. It will be years before either of them joins the fold in all actuality."

The voices began to fade and a moment later, she watched as their torches disappeared. Leaving her in almost complete darkness. She had to follow. Standing up from her crouched position, she pressed herself against the wall just like Syrio had taught her to do, slowly getting closer to them. 

"The quiet wolf needs to learn to be subtle. He's following in the exact same steps as the old falcon did. He knows it wasn't a natural death, although how I am yet to piece together. It won't be long until he finds out the truth and what his son witnessed in that tower. War is coming my friend. We've had the longest summer in decades, and as wolves are so fond of saying- winter is coming. The stern stag has already fled the city and my birds are singing that he is commissioning ships to be built with the Velaryon's. He's preparing for the inevitable. All that needs to happen is for the quiet wolf to make a misstep and the eldest stag to die."

Arya's eyes widened massively as her hand covered her mouth and breathed heavily into her skin. She read in between the lines as best she could but it was clear what they were both insinuating. They believe her father is in danger, and with Robert gone, he will not have a single friend in the capital. She needs to tell him, but could she and evading Varys' little birds? She'll need to find out in some way if this is possible. The torchlight disappeared again and it was only then she spotted bright green eyes peering at her from the dark. She groaned in irritation before launching after the cat, it once again running away from her with ease.

The words she'd overheard were now spinning in her head, and she felt such a surge of anger within that it made her feel like she was burning from the inside out. Tears stinging in the corners of her eyes at everything. What did it all mean? What was going to cause a war? What was her father not being subtle about? Had he found something out about what had happened to Jon Arryn?. It was obvious that was who they meant by the elderly falcon. The quiet wolf was her father, the northern dragon had to be Jon, the girl could only be Daenerys. But who was this person they were calling their dragon? Arya replayed it all in her head, trying to make sense of the information she had just learned. Then it hit her- they said brother, and something about neither of them taking the news well. But Prince Aegon was dead, the Mountain had crushed his skull in with his mother Elia watching before raping her and splitting her in half with his sword. But it was the only thing that made sense, unless Rhaegar had another secret son but somehow she doubted that. 

The only way she was going to get answers was if she confronted her father. 

But that had to wait, she had a cat to catch. Her footsteps were echoing loudly as she got further into the caves and before long the putrid stench of shit invaded her nostrils. Up above, she saw a puddle of what could only be excrement and she wrinkled her nose in disgust, hoping the beast wouldn't go that way. Either she was in luck, or the beast heard her as it turned sharply down another tunnel. Obviously, these were some of the tunnels Maegor had designed before killing everyone who had done so, ensuring them being secret. Obviously, Varys knew about them, and whoever this Illyrio was. Who else knew about them? She could add herself to the list now. All she could think of was how jealous Bran would be when she told him she knew about them, knowing how much it would delight him. 

It may have been minutes; it may have been hours. She'd lost track of time rather quickly in her endeavour. All she knew was that her legs were aching from running so much to keep up with the black creature that was still evading her somehow. But Arya was not someone who gave up, and she was going to catch this beast today. It was ending here, no matter how long it was going to take her to do so. She managed to befriend the feral one in Winterfell so why not the feral one in the Red Keep? But this one was much more hostile than the one living where she had spent her whole life in until a few months before. The moment she caught sight of what could only be the Blackwater, the sun blinded her momentarily. 

The beast bounded across the rocks effortlessly, but she had to take a lot more care considering they were covered in seaweed and moss. She watched as it suddenly turned a corner around a very narrow part of rocks where the water appeared to be numerous feet deep, having to hold on to the edge to make sure she got around. Only to find herself in another cave or tunnel. Gods! How many of these things were there? The cat ran into it and once again, she followed it. But Arya was left speechless as she walked inside of the cave, noticing it didn't appear to be a tunnel. If it was, it had caved in at some point like a portion of the crypts were in Winterfell. She noticed the cat was nudging at something in the corner, and curiosity soon got the better of her. Walking over, she expected for the beast to run again, but it stayed put. 

It was nudging at a box, one that was damaged badly and probably washed ashore during a storm or a tide. She knelt and reached for it, green eyes staring back at her curiously. It was a horrid brown colour now, where it once may have been multiple colours. Dusting off what she could and peeling off a couple of strands of seaweed. There were no engravings, and there didn't appear to be any markings which would confirm who this had belonged to. Clearly it meant something to the cat if it was nudging it the way it was. Kneading at it the way a kitten kneads its mother. There was a padlock on it, but due to how run down it was, a simple stamp with her foot caused it to break off so she could see the contents.

Inside, there were only two things. One was a brooch, and the other may have been a teddy bear at one point but it was in such a state there was no way to know for certain. Immediately, the cat climbed inside and snuggled the latter item close, making a whining noise as if it were pining for someone. Had the cat knew who this belonged to? If so, it would explain the strange behaviour. When she picked up the brooch, her eyes widened massively. It was made of pure silver, of three dragon heads and their eyes held rubies in them. But there weren't just dragons on it, in front of the central dragon there was a sun carved- with a spear through the centre. She knew that sigil alright, House Martell of Sunspear. 

Confusion set in but she pocketed the item, planning to ask someone about it later. By now, the cat was curled inside the box, with the might-have-been teddy bear clutched tight within its grip. Arya didn't want to disturb it because clearly this item meant a lot to it, but she'd set herself a goal. Therefore, she bent down to pick up the box, amazed that the beast didn't immediately dart like it had every other time she had tried to catch it. She looked around her and noticed a staircase which led to one of the gates, probably the mud gate considering she was on the banks of the Blackwater. She was filthy, there was no other way to say it. Covered in dust, seaweed, water, and possibly sewage somewhere as well. Likely smelling something sour. 

"Go away boy."

The guard standing at the gate said to her as she finally climbed up the last step. 

"I'm not a boy- I'm a girl! Now let me by!"

The one wearing all red laughed in irritation.

"Now boy- or girl, we don't know how you got here. But you're not welcome in this city. It's bad enough that it smells the way it does, we don't need a sewer rat and their beast making the place stink even more."

"I live here!"

Both rolled their eyes at her now, one making a swipe for her but she managed to dodge it before using the momentary distraction to get under their arms and dart inside, quickly disguising herself amongst the people. She had to find out where she was. If that were indeed the mud gate, she would have to head east to get to the Red Keep. Which is what she did. People were obviously trying to get as far away from her as they possibly could so they wouldn't have to smell her. She knew she was about to get yelled at by Septa Mordane the moment she stepped foot inside the castle, but she was certainly going to be taking a long bath after the day she'd had.

What did Varys and that other man mean? Brother? About her father not being subtle? Of how Jon Arryn had made the same mistake he had? That there are apparently four other dragon eggs? And that wasn't taking into consideration they'd said that Jon was alive and was hiding somewhere secluded. They'd been talking about how good of a strategic position he brings to everything, and about keeping him apart from someone by not telling either. It was way too much to take in. But she was certainly going to be confronting her father when she sees him. 

"Arya!"

She snapped her head around at this only to be met with Jory Cassel, relief immediately rushing through her like water falling from a cliff. Walking over to him immediately as she trusted him to get her back as she didn't know her way around the city. Sansa was the one who got the personal tour from 'the golden lion' as she called him a few days prior. Disgust crept up inside the younger at everything that had happened. Joffrey had threatened to gut her in front of Sansa and even then the older took his side. They all saw it, so why couldn't she? Or Jeyne for that matter, she was just as bad as Sansa in tripping over her feet like he was a walking god to worship.

"Where have you been? And what in the hells is in that box? Come, we'll get you cleaned up. Your father's been looking everywhere for you."

"I was chasing cats. I finally caught the one I've had my eye on for days but failed to catch."

He chuckled deeply at her words before leading her towards the castle. Once inside the walls of the Keep, she spotted the guards who were at the gate preventing her from getting in. Once they spotted her, they immediately marched over and one grabbed her arm.

"Let go of me!"

"We told you not to come inside you filthy little gutter rat!"

Jory looked bamboozled at the exchange before looking to Arya.

"If I were you, I'd let go of Lord Eddard Stark's daughter. You refused her entry to the city?!"

Both reared back as if they had both been slapped so hard across the face it would leave a mark for days. Opening and closing their mouths it made Arya wonder if they were ever Tully men as they did look like fishes gasping out of the water. With that, they scuttled away sheepishly as she was led towards the castle. Once she was safe in her room, she sat the box down and noticed the black beast had now fallen asleep, still holding the object close to it like a baby. Not long after, her door opened and her father stormed in.

"Where were you?!"

Arya cringed before looking to the ground.

"Syrio tasked me with chasing cats. I wanted a challenge and I found this one. It led me down into tunnels underneath the castle and on the banks of the Blackwater."

She watched as her father pinched his nose and breathed heavily, clearly trying to hide his annoyance. It was rare that her father showed anger, but when he did it was not a good thing. He was called the Quiet Wolf, but he was anything but quiet when he was truly angry.

"Chasing cats, you say?"

She meekly nodded before saying she would like some time to herself so she could bathe. It was only now that he seemingly noticed just how dirty she was before nodding, sending for a servant to draw her a bath straight away. 

"Cats. I hired him to teach you how to use that sword of yours- "

"Syrio says any great swordsman should study cats. They're agile, they're fast, they always adapt well, and-"

She cut off as he let out a short laugh before leaving the room. It took approximately twenty minutes for her bath to be drawn and for it to cool down enough for her, and it felt incredible to wash all the dirt from her body. By the time she stepped out of the tub, the water was a myriad of colours she'd rather not see again. As soon as clothes were pulled on, she stepped out to be met with her father. Shame ate up inside of her at the expression he was giving her. But then she remembered what she'd overheard. The fact he'd lied to her, and to Sansa. 

"I've asked Septa Mordane to bring up some food as you missed dinner."

Now, even more anger built up inside of her at the mention of her Septa, knowing she would talk down to her like she was dirt on her shoe like every other time. The woman was desperate to make a Lady out of Arya and despised that the young girl was having none of it.

"Why did you lie to me?"

Eddard turned to her with a confused glance, wondering what she meant with that.

"About Jon, of how he joined the Night's Watch and disappeared on a ranging like uncle Benjen."

She watched as he gulped quietly, trying to think of a response. 

"Don't lie. I overheard Varys and some man called Illyrio talking about it in the tunnels. They were calling him the northern dragon and they were talking about Daenerys and someone else as well. Said something about a brother and- "

"Arya don't say anymore. The walls have ears in the Red Keep."

She closed her mouth at this, albeit reluctantly. She spotted the shame on his face immediately, the same expression he'd used when he'd first sat down with Catelyn to tell her the truth. Of how Jon was not her father's son and was in fact her aunt Lyanna's legitimate son to Rhaegar Targaryen. Once the Septa walked inside carrying a bowl of something, she stomped over but with a stern glare from Eddard, she left the room. Arya would normally have jumped into his arms for that, but she needed answers. 

"Where is he really?"

Her father bit his lip hard before reaching over to grab some parchment. She understood what he was doing. Clearly whatever was about to be spoken could not be overheard under any circumstances. He grabbed an inkwell that was on her desk too before writing out his response. Greywater Watch. Her eyebrows met in the middle in confusion at this. Why was he in the Neck? She'd heard the story numerous times, that Howland Reed was the only one to walk away from what happened at the tower alive out of the seven who went there. How they had bested three members of the Kingsguard. Her father must've noticed her inner turmoil as he left the room before re-entering with a box containing letters and grabbing one of the candles that were lit on the wall. 

At first, she was curious. Why was he showing her letters? She got her answer as he handed them over to her before writing down to flip them and hold just in front of the flame. A pale yellow appeared, writing she recognised. Her mothers. That was when she remembered she was in on whatever they were doing. As she read, her eyes gradually widened. Her parents had both told her that if the truth got out it would without any question lead to all their heads on spikes. Even Rickon's, despise him only being six. Once she had finished reading, she sat back in her seat stunned into silence. 

"I told your sister earlier today. I was going to tell you right after, but no one had seen you for hours. Sansa has been sworn to secrecy on it, even from Jeyne as much as she hates it. Now you must also swear yourself to secrecy Arya- "

"As if dragon hatchlings will remain a secret- "

The glare he gave her at this quip was enough to cause her to sink into her chair and hang her head in shame. Instead, he grabbed another piece of parchment and confirmed he plans to press on his claim. Hence why it was all staged. To say Arya was shocked was an understatement. Ever since they'd been told, Jon had been adamant he wanted nothing to do with the throne. What changed his mind? Had it been gradual or did one day he just decide he was going to do it? Then the seriousness hit her. Once he does, it will severely anger the Lannister's and the Baratheon's. She had yet to meet Tywin Lannister, and a part of her hopes she never would. What he done to the Reyne's and the Tarbeck's was barbaric. And this wasn't even considering how he had ordered the Mountain and Amory Lorch to butcher Jon's blood siblings. A sharp clang caught her attention and looking to the table showed that the brooch she'd found had fallen out. Before she could grab it, her father did so and his eyes widened.

"Arya, where did you get this?"

She bit her lip before looking to the box that was now sitting on her bed, the cat still sleeping in it if the soft snores were anything to go by. Arya watched as her father stood to walk towards it to look inside, a pained expression on his face. 

"I remember this brooch. There were three of them. I remember seeing two on the bodies of Elia and Rhaenys, Aegon didn't. Where did you find this cat Arya?"

"Near the kitchens, it terrorises everyone there. Has been for over a decade they said and nobody has ever managed to catch it. Or if they did, it always escaped hours later."

The expression now on his face was one she had never seen him wear before. One of absolute disbelief. She wondered silently if this was the expression he'd worn when he found out his sister wasn't kidnapped and she'd gone willingly and he'd helped kill her husband. No, he didn't strike the blow himself, but his armies certainly helped. 

"Do not tell anyone you have these. I cannot speak for whatever it is that cat is cradling, but this I can speak for. You said you found it in a cave on the Blackwater coast?"

All she could do was nod, wondering what was causing such a reaction. 

"I think this brooch may have been the one that was missing on Aegon. I remember someone saying when the bodies were brought out that Doran had these made for them. And if that cat is what I think it is- "

"Who's do you think it belonged to? It's practically feral at this point."

Her father looked down to the sleeping creature, taking in its matted fur and hole where its ear had been. 

"It was known that Princess Rhaenys had a black cat that went missing not long after she died. According to sources it was already half-feral and only ever let her near it. Did it lead you to this box?"

Again, Arya nodded. Confirming this was indeed the case. It hit her like a wave at what he was insinuating. Her father thought this cat had once belonged to Jon's blood sibling. She'd need to find out just how old it was to see if it fit within the timeline. But Syrio had stated on numerous occasions that cats are some of the most loyal animals there are, even if they don't show it. The brooch inside the box was assumed to have been Jon's brothers, meaning the might-have-been teddy bear may have been either of his siblings. Sadness blossomed through her over what she had found. 

"Could it perhaps be sent to Doran?"

Her words were quiet, remembering what he had said about the walls having ears. The older man shook his head but she could tell from his facial expressions that he had another idea. 

"Tell me what you heard in those tunnels Arya. And don't leave anything out."

So that is what she did. She told him as much as she remembered, making sure to say it in the order she'd overheard to avoid confusion. Once she was finished, she watched as her father pinched his nose tightly in irritation.

"He shouldn't have blurted it out. Now the Spider knows, as does whoever this Illyrio is. That's not good. And they definitely know about the hatchlings?"

"They said he'd named them Rhaegon and Lyrax."

Eddard stood abruptly and let out a loud breath of air. From that, Arya knew that this was correct. People knew. The only good thing was that Varys had stated it was one of his infamous little birds in Mole's Town who'd overheard it. Did all the small town know? Or was it just a couple of people? Obviously, those in Castle Black knew because he had 'blurted it out' as her father had put it. Then there was the Lord Commander and the Master-at-arms being in on the whole thing. People were finding out. This was not good, not good at all. 

"Did you hear anything else about Jon Arryn?"

Shaking her head in the negative only added to everything. 

"I've been retracing his steps. He'd taken a strange fascination with Robert's many bastards, was visiting them all. I've spoken to a few of them too. I don't know why he was asking about them, all I know is that Stannis was with him, and he's since fled- "

"One of them said something about Stannis having a fleet built with the Velaryon's, said he was preparing for something."

To say Arya was surprised when Eddard cursed under his breath was putting it lightly. He never swore in front of her, or not intentionally at least. 

"He must've found something out, and he was killed for it. Stannis managed to escape meaning he must know what it was. The man is on Dragonstone, which is a little more than day's ride away by ship. I'll get a raven sent to him asking what it was."

Arya's stomach knotted immediately at his words. Had he not listened when she'd said he wasn't being subtle and people were on to him? 

"Father you can't, they'll find out- "

Tears welled up in her eyes but she managed to fight them back the best she could. Arya prided herself in being someone who wasn't scared of anything, but this terrified her massively. What did it all mean? It had to be linked somehow, it had to be. 

"What about the other dragons they were talking about? About Daenerys and Viserys?"

"Viserys Targaryen is dead, Arya. We received the raven a few days ago. I've already sent communication to Jon to let him know."

She stumbled back at this as if she had just been punched hard in the stomach. If her father knew, the Spider knew. So, what did he mean about there being two dragons in Essos? What did he mean by he was passing a boy off as a Blackfyre to recruit the Golden Company? 

"How did he die?"

Eddard sighed deeply before slowly sitting down again, looking to his clasped hands as he thought.

"If what the spy said is true, he threatened to cut out Daenerys' unborn child. It's considered the worst sin to the Dothraki to wield a blade in Vaes Dothrak in a threatening way. I'm not certain I believe the method of death, but there's no denying he is dead. The report said Khal Drogo melted down his golden belt and poured it over his head. Boiling alive."

Arya gagged at the thought, not needing that image in her head. Suddenly regretting asking. As much as she didn't want to believe it either, she could see the Dothraki doing that. If they couldn't bear live steel in a threatening way in their sacred city, he had to have been killed in a different way. But why not just throw him off a cliff? Have him be run down by a horse? Why molten gold of all things? 

"You need to find out what Stannis knows father- "

"Aye, I do. I've been trying to figure out whatever is happening for months now and no matter what it always leads back to Robert's bastards. It's connected somehow, and I need to find out what it is. After all, I did promise Jon I wouldn't do anything stupid. And I keep my promises."

All Arya could do was smile, relief rushing through her as if it were her wolf running directly at her. Sadness immediately overcame her, she missed Nymeria. Badly. Guilt still ate her up at remembering having to throw rocks at her to get her to leave. But it was either rejection or death, and a wolf is not a tame creature. And certainly not a direwolf.

A/N: Full disclosure- I do believe in the Blackfyre theory. But I just really want to write full blown Targaryen succession fight.


	18. XVII

Robb IV

Not much had changed in Winterfell over the last few months. Yes, it was considerably quieter considering more than half the men had left to go south with Lord Eddard and the girls. But apart from that, it felt the same. But to Robb there would always be a hole. It had now been four months since Jon had left to head to the Wall with Howland Reed. He missed running rampart with him, sparring with him even if he very rarely won, chasing after Bran, playing pranks on others. But there was no time for any of that, he was now the Lord of Winterfell. And a Lord does not concern himself with childhood ploys. Just thinking on everything that had changed within the year was insane. 

From a castle filled with raucous laughter and boisterous children- now there was only one boisterous boy, one confined to a bed as he couldn't walk anymore, and a sixteen name-day old running the keep alongside the North. It was a huge responsibility that fell onto Robb, but luckily he's always been someone who adapts quickly. Plus, his father had been allowing him to shadow him and held private lessons with him to prepare him for this. He didn't expect it to happen for many years, but alas, times were changing. Then there was the truth which shattered everything, shook it all into their heads the depths of betrayal his father would stoop to so he could protect his family. 

Not many people would see it as that though, and that disgusted him greatly. He remembered when his father had asked to speak to him a couple of hours after pulling Jon aside after their sparring bout that fateful day. He'd been laughing, joking with Theon, trying to one-up his brother, and then he was told. How he wasn't his brother but was his cousin, that he wasn't a bastard but legitimate, that he wasn't a Stark but a Targaryen. To say he had been shocked was putting it very lightly, he probably looked as though he'd been clubbed over the head with a mace. After he was told, he had simply gone to his room quietly and just stared at the walls for hours. Only seeming to snap out of it when he heard someone training in the yard below.

Yes, Jon had confirmed to him he was going to press on the claim at some point, but he wasn't going to for years. But even this didn't go to plan as that damned cutthroat set the library tower alight and he walked in with two eggs, only to come out hours later with two hatchlings clinging to his shoulders. Robb had seen plenty of drawings and paintings of dragons, it was the only thing Arya ever read about alongside war tomes. But seeing them in the flesh was something else. Knowing he was the second person to see such creatures since the reign of Aegon III after the dreaded dance between Aegon II and Rhaenyra. A lot of people consider this to be the time where Targaryen's started being labelled mad.

He himself thought the family insane. It was only when he took one of the books Arya hid in her room which documented them all did he realise that those who did go mad were far and few between- and only two of them ascended to the throne. People do consider the two contenders after Viserys I died to be so- but thinking on it, it really wasn't. Brother against sister is something that should never occur, family always sticks together. The pack should stick together. But it was Alicent and Otto Hightower who crowned Aegon despite the previous King naming his eldest daughter his heir. 

Robb ran his fingers through his hair as he worked through the bountiful amounts of paperwork there was on the desk. He always knew there would be a lot of it, but doing it was something else. His hand was aching and the underside of his right hand was stained in blue-black ink. Sighing deeply, he placed the quill down and looked around the room. It was strange being in his father's solar in his seat. He'd been in here hundreds of times ever since he could walk pretty much, but it felt odd to him now. He stood up and took in what was in here. A bookcase on the wall filled with history on the North, the spines of said tomes dated what period they detailed. A tapestry on the wall that his father had stated his mother had done herself when he was a young boy that took two years to complete. Multiple instruments he had no idea what their purpose was. And a single painting of them all he'd had commissioned for Rickon's first name-day. But it wasn't all of them, as it had been made abundantly clear Jon was not to be in it. 

Outside, he could hear swords hitting against dummies and against one another, the ring of steel against steel something he yearned to take part in again. But he didn't have the time to do so anymore, plus Theon wasn't the best sparring partner. Aye, he was good, but he was predictable. Robb knew his style inside out and therefore it was never a challenge. The door opening caused him to snap his head over, sighing deeply at seeing his mother's copper hair. Her face was in a frown as she looked at him, glancing over the paperwork that was still to be done, before turning to him with a quirked eyebrow. 

"I had to take a break for a few minutes, it was too much at once."

Her face fell a little at this before silently urging him to take a seat as she sat across from him. Her bright blue eyes which matched with his own standing out against their porcelain skin. 

"Being a Lord is all fun and games until you are a Lord. Then you understood how difficult it really is."

He couldn't say anything to that because that was how he felt about it. With that said, he picked the quill up once more and responding to the numerous letters he'd received and signing trade agreements after reading through them. Then there were the responses to criminals which needed to be answered on whether they would be given warnings, sentenced to a dungeon or the wall, or beheaded. He'd only had one beheading so far, and it like most things now was so much more different doing it himself instead of simply witnessing it from the side lines. He'd always known Ice was extraordinarily heavy but holding it himself confirmed it. He'd clicked his wrist swinging it and had to wear a cast for a few days so it could heal afterwards. Valyrian steel swords were incredibly rare to come by, and they cannot even use theirs it was just that big. It was almost as tall as Robb was, and he wasn't a short man. 

"It'll get easier, and it won't be forever Robb. Your father will be back one day, as will the girls- "

"Mother, you know as well as I do that's wishful thinking. You know Jon plans on pressing on the claim in the future. The only way all will leave is if Robert dies beforehand."

Catelyn bit her lip at this, not liking the truth in her son's words. 

"Honestly, I can't see that man living much longer with all the drinking and eating. He puts the Manderly's to shame with his feasts. Heck, the one we held when they came here for him set us back two thousand golden dragons. The average feast in Winterfell costs a quarter of that. It's no surprise the realm is massively in debt to the Iron Bank and to the Lannister's."

It was a thought that crossed Robb's mind often. He'd only ever met him once before and he was only a child then, when he came with Eddard to bring Theon to Winterfell as a hostage. He barely remembered it, but he did remember that he was nowhere near the size he was now. And if he died, it automatically makes the snotty Prince the new King. It was rare that Robb hated someone on first sight, but the pompous look the younger wore when he rode in on his stallion instantly made his blood boil. This coupled with him looking down at him like he was simply dirt on his shoe made it worse. Theon had clocked it up to being overprotective of Sansa, but this was only a tiny portion of it. But the older male switched sides when Joffrey called them stupid children because Ser Rodrik wouldn't let them train with live steel which Joffrey refused to use anything but. 

"How long does it take to become a master at politics?"

Catelyn went quiet at his words as she carefully thought.

"Everyone is different, Robb. Some people learn in a matter of weeks, some it takes years, and others never do. Gods, I dread the day my brother ascends to Lord Paramount of the Riverlands. I love my baby brother with all my heart but I won't sit here and kiss his arse because he is terrible with politics. The only thing he really has going for him is his ability with numbers. There's a reason my father and uncle don't get along. My father wants Brynden to marry and to have him take over as Lord, but my uncle doesn't want to marry nor does he feel comfortable with usurping my brothers claim- "

A knock on the door silenced her and Robb hid his emotions over his mother's confession quickly. Maester Luwin walked in not long after carrying a raven scroll in his hands.

"Apologies for the intrusion my Lord, my Lady. But an urgent raven arrived from Lord Eddard."

Robb's eyes widened a little before stretching his hand out to take the scroll from the elderly man. He made to leave but he silently asked him to remain but to lock the door to avoid any wandering ears. He read it earnestly but it made no sense at all. Just detailing Sansa spending an entire day with Joffrey and Arya chasing cats? What did this mean? He pulled one of the many candles that were alight in the room before flipping the parchment. It was long, three paragraphs full and the writing was tiny and barely eligible. Meaning a lot had happened. He scanned over it and his eyes widened massively, his heart beginning to beat rapidly in his chest as he stood from his seat in shock. No, it was too soon. Way too soon. 

His mother reached her hand out to read it herself and he spotted the Maester was gnawing on his thumb in nerves. Sansa was beginning to come around, Arya had found the lost cat of Rhaenys fucking Targaryen alongside a brooch his father suspected belonged to Aegon Targaryen. But that wasn't the worst of it, Varys knew about Jon. The spider knew they were committing the highest of treasons to keep him safe. Plus, something about a boy posing as a Blackfyre? That Arya had overheard Varys and some other man discussing introducing them to one another? That said boy had an egg and Daenerys had three?! What in seven hells was happening? It was too much at once, and from the way Catelyn was gripping the parchment he knew she was the same. 

"You know what this means don't you, Robb?"

Carefully, he sat back down although he was still shaking in both fear and astonishment. 

"It means war is coming, and it's going to be soon. Varys is on the small council; he could tell Robert at any moment. In fact, I take that back. What in the world did Stannis find out that caused him to flee and start building a fleet with the Velaryon's?!"

The panic in his voice was obviously matched by his expressions now, not being able to keep his composure at all of this. 

"It's not even the worst part of it, Robb, did you read the last paragraph?"

The younger simply shook his head, the first two were enough for him to think on. But from the disturbed look on his mother's face, he knew it was not good news. She handed the scroll back over to him, his thumb trailing along the broken grey seal. When he'd finished doing so, he felt his heart drop instantly. Daenerys was pregnant, and Viserys was dead. Killed by his sister's husband of all people for apparently threatening to cut her child out of her. His hand ran stressfully through his dark auburn locks as he thought this all through.

"Gods, we need to tell him. He's not going to take this well- "

"He's already told him, says so at the bottom. I'd imagine he'll have received the raven a day or two ago."

Well that was a good thing. Robb did not want to be the one to tell his cousin that was raised as his brother that his uncle was dead at his goodfamily's hands. Jon was not going to take this well. And if his father were telling him about that there was no doubt in his mind he would know about everything else that had happened. He will have to make a move, and soon. And he will need to make it quickly and keep it hidden at the same time. That was not an easy task. 

"How can we help? This will be enough for him to make a move, but I don't want to sit and just let it all happen."

"If I may be excused, my Lord. I believe I have just the thing that can do just that."

Robb eyed Luwin quizzically but nodded assuredly anyway, despite his mind running at hundreds of miles per second currently. 

"First we need to find out what Varys intends to do with this knowledge. That's a given. We cannot have him tell the Baratheon's or Lannister's as then it will be war in a matter of days. Jon needs time to learn, and it would probably be best that the dragons are at a decent size. Anyone would run screaming at seeing dragons flying in the sky again. But from Jon's latest raven they're the size of horses. That's not large enough to cause too much fear- "

"He researched into it with Maester Aemon who apparently has a book that documents when all Targaryen dragons were mounted for the first time. It seems to be within two years but possibly earlier. It's been almost five months now. We need to stall everything by a good year at least."

Catelyn nodded at Robb's words, not even attempting to show her pride over how quickly he'd come to that conclusion. But holding off a war was a dangerous thing, and they will need to do it secretly. All their heads would be on spikes if it got out that they were knowingly hiding a male Targaryen heir from the King who was hellbent on ripping the family out root and stem. 

"I'll ride to White Harbour on the morrow and get a ship down to Kings Landing. I'll leave some trace for the spider to meet with me when I dock. I'll find out whose side he is on- "

"Mother, you cannot. Rickon is six, he needs you- "

She shot him a glare so harsh that he was sure if he was made of glass she would've shattered him. 

"There must always be a Stark in Winterfell, Robb. I am a Stark by marriage but I will always be a Tully. I will go and speak to Varys myself to find out what is going on."

Her tone left him no room to argue. Sulking, he eyed the pale parchment once again, reading over the words as if they were going to change some way. His hands covering his face and sighing deeply. Gods Jon, why did you blurt it out? And now Sansa and Arya knew of their mummery. He wasn't worried too much about the younger as Arya stuck to Jon like parchment and wax. It was Sansa he was worried about. What happened that caused her to start coming around? Had Joffrey done something that opened her eyes? Or had she just been going back and forth and was beginning to crack? He didn't have time to think however as Luwin walked back into the room carrying two large books alongside a leather pouch. One of the ones he had which preserved old scrolls. He placed them down on the table and with permission sat down beside mother and son. 

"Stannis is building a fleet with the Velaryon's. That's the opening needed."

At his words, both turned to him with looks of confusion. What opening? Neither Robb nor Catelyn could see any flaw in that other than Stannis had found something out and was taking precautionary measures. 

"My Lord, what did I teach you regarding the Dance?"

If he wasn't confused before, he certainly was now. Luwin must've noticed it as he elaborated carefully.

"Who came to Winterfell to convince Cregan Stark to join in? And how was it done?"

Robb noticed something click in his mother's eyes at this as she eyed the Maester incredulously, scrambling to take the scroll he had and removing it from the letter. Her eyes went over it a few times but she seemed to not understand it. The younger pieced bits together but somehow it just wasn't clicking for him. He's either missing something big or he's being told to read in between the lines for the least obvious. And that was a skill he was not good at when it came to politics. When it came to strategy he was good at it, but that was all. 

"Jacaerys Velaryon flew here on his dragon Vermax to convince Cregan to support his mother Rhaenyra- "

Then the penny dropped. Suddenly realising what this scroll was. He took it from his mother, noting the delicacy of the material due to it being almost two centuries old. 

"Is this?"

"Aye, that's Winterfell's copy of the pact signed during the negotiations. I believe the Velaryon's still have their copy too. But if they don't, they'll certainly remember it. It was a huge part in their history after all."

His eyes widened massively once again. He wasn't much into the negotiations side when it came to learning the history of the realm, it not interesting him in the slightest. But now he was beginning to realise this was just as important as the fighting side of everything. His mother pushed the leather scroll over to him as he carefully slid it out, being able to feel just how brittle it was. The ink was faded but that was understandable, it was made one-hundred-and-seventy-one years ago. Luckily, it was still eligible and he began to read it to the best of his ability.

Kostagon īlon nykeōragon sagon ōregon naejot bisa. Isse udligon syt āeksio Cregan Stark's pazavorve naejot issa muñnykeā. Nyke, Jacaerys Velaryon, emagon sinata nykeā dīnilūks rȳ nykeā Darzon hen lentor Targārien nykeā lentor Velaryon, se nykeā Darzon naejot lentor Stark isse se sōnia. Istin se vīlībāzma iksos gaomagon, se dīnilūks jāhor gūrogon dīnagon. Istin bisa iksos gaomagon, nyke shall gūrogon se tȳne tresy hen āeksio Cregan naejot dārys tegorīr skoriot ziry jāhor sagon jiōragotan nykeā dīnagon rȳ coztara. Naejot mōrī bisa, issa hāedāje lēkia Joffrey Velaryon jāhor sagon nykeā ward isse ropatasōnar. Istin se dīnilūks iksos gaomagon, se sōnia jāhor sagon risen naejot Darzonetas raqagon īlva dorna. Ry hen lentor Stark jāhor hēzīr sagon Darzon. (May we stand behold to this. In response for Lord Cregan Stark's loyalty to my mother. I, Jacaerys Velaryon, have signed a marriage between a Prince or Princess of House Targaryen or House Velaryon, and an heir to House Stark in the North. Once the war is done, the marriage will take place. Once this is done, I shall take the second son of Lord Cregan to King's Landing where he will be offered a place at court. To finalise this, my youngest brother Joffrey Velaryon will be a ward in Winterfell. Once the marriage is done, the North will be risen to Principality like our Dornish allies. All of House Stark will hereby be Princes and Princesses.)

On the first read, it didn't sink in. The second read it began to click in his mind. And on the third read he dropped it on the table and reeled back in shock. Robb wasn't stupid, he knew about the pact from his numerous history lessons. But it was long thought that it was null and void because they all died anyway apart from Rhaenyra's youngest two sons and their cousin Jaehaera. Yet here it was, on dark blue and pale yellow. Confirmation that this was not the pact agreed. It wasn't a male of House Stark marrying a female of House Targaryen like it was long thought to be. It was an heir of each marrying one another. 

"It's been fulfilled- oh gods!"

His head began to ache at what this all meant. Trying to make sense of where this would fit in and how it could be used to their advantage. 

"Will someone kindly translate for me as I don't know a word of High Valyrian other than absolute basics?"

The slightly sarcastic tone in his mother's voice brought him out of his numb state as Maester Luwin reached over to read it himself. He probably never had, considering the dust that came flying out the moment the leather was opened to reveal the scroll. When the realisation sunk in for the older male, his head snapped to Robb before steadily turning to Catelyn.

"Mother- I- "

No words other than this came out of his mouth at what this meant. Seven hells Lyanna! Was she aware of what her marriage had caused?! This wasn't an opening at all, this was on the brink of being another act of war! 

"It translates to when an heir of House Stark marries an heir of House Targaryen, there will be a hostage swap between the youngest siblings to further bind the two together, and the North will be risen to Principality status."

Robb watched as she steadily raised a hand to cover her mouth, now knowing why they were both freaking out. 

"Lyanna was the female heir of House Stark- "

"And Rhaegar was the male heir of House Targaryen. This means that the North is semi-independent due to their marriage and has been for just over seventeen years, and all of us are Princes and Princesses."

All three were breathing deeply now at this. Desperately trying to take in the news. It felt like all those months ago once more when the truth of Jon came out.

"Your trip to Kings Landing must happen now mother, there is no way to avoid it. But send a raven to Varys first, see if he might come here instead. Give it a bit of time for this to sink in."

Jaeron XIV

"Cyvasse."

Jon smirked lightly at Arthur as he boxed in his King with his dragon and elephant. There was no way out of this one, that he knew as he'd taken specific steps to do this. From the corner of his eye, he spotted Torghen smirk openly in understanding. The Dornishman in front of him was looking around the board, trying to find some other way to wiggle out of the predicament he was in but after careful consideration, realised it was futile. He watched as he raised his arms in an act of surrender, finally admitting defeat before standing up. The Vale man now taking his place as he cleared the board and thought it through on his end. Torghen Hill had arrived three weeks after his talk with Arthur three months ago. With hair as fair as the Lannister's and piercing blue eyes that was common with those of Andalosi descent. 

Once again, he wiped his face clean and thought where to put his starting pieces. This was a game of strategy, politics, and war combined. And it was stupid to use the same tactic all the time, hence why it was always changing. No game was ever the same, and therefore always unpredictable. But there was one thing that never changed for him, he always kept his King near the back of the board, which is something a lot of Kings did unless they didn't have a choice. Something that disgusted him, and Jon knew that once he begins to press on the claim, he will be at the forefront. And he knew deep down that Robb would be right behind him as a loyal bannerman. 

How times have changed. Up until a year ago Jon dreamed of having a small keep of his own to run and to be a loyal bannerman to his brother. Yet it was now the other way around with some added adjustments in the form that he was a damned Prince. He'd always thought that Sansa's and Jeyne's dreamy talks of lost love and hidden royals were stupid- the irony of it all. He watched carefully as to where Torghen was putting his pieces, trying to figure out the man's strategy before the game had even begun. Analysing deeply all the same. Elephant near the back, dragon at the right corner, King in the centre, rabble at the front ready to be converted into light and heavy cavalry. 

Two hours in and they were still nowhere near finishing the game, and he'd still not figured out the man's strategy. He wasn't trying to box him in so he wasn't going the siege route. He wasn't outwardly attacking any big players meaning he was either being cautious or getting rid of the lesser pieces first. Just as Jon was about to make his next move, a startled Howland walked in clutching a piece of parchment to him with a terrified look on his face. The rooms occupants and Ghost tilted their heads to the Lord as he gulped loudly before shutting the door behind him. 

"My Lord?"

The silent question was clear, what is going on now? He noticed Arthur place a hand gently on the hilt of his sword for reassurance and Torghen was biting his lip hard. 

"This is something Jaeron needs to see himself- "

"Ser Arthur will stay as he is on my Kingsguard. Torghen, I will notify you later in the day."

With that, the blonde left the room with a simple bowed head. He caught the Dornishman quirk an eyebrow at him and he realised why. That was the first time he had given a command as a King, and he had not stuttered nor had he faltered once. 

"Alert us of the update, my Lord."

Steadily, Howland took the unoccupied seat as the Knight stood vigilantly behind Jon in a protective manner. 

"Nothing good."

He kept his face passive as he carefully slid the parchment over to him, taking note of the grey wax stamped with a direwolf. Meaning it had either come from Eddard or from Robb. He'd heard nothing bad regarding the North so the chances are this was an update from his uncle. He bent the already opened seal backwards and uncurled the scroll, beginning to read it. Once he had finished doing so, he read it a second time, and then a third as if to assure himself that he wasn't imagining things. Finally, he placed it on the table and let out a long breath.

"My uncle is dead, killed by my aunt's husband for trying to cut her unborn child out of her."

Arthur reeled back in shock at this, looking to him with a pleading look as if he were silently asking him to confirm this was not the case. He remembered Viserys well, the happy seven name-day old running throughout the keep showing off to his parents by naming all the skulls of the dragons that once decorated the throne room of the Red Keep. Silver curls falling to his shoulders that were a copy of his mother's and being fiercely protective over her. Yet he'd apparently tried to cut out his little sister's child and met his end. Three Targaryen's left; one on the wall past his one hundredth name-day, a young female in the middle of the Dothraki Sea somewhere, and a boy barely older than the girl hidden in plain sight.

"It's not the only thing on it. There's now proof that Jon Arryn was murdered as Arya overheard Varys talking with someone in the tunnels beneath the castle. She's apparently also found what my uncle believes to have been my blood sister's cat that went missing not long after she was stabbed half a hundred times alongside a brooch that henbelieves belonged to my blood brother. Stannis fled the city for some reason and is building a fleet with the Velaryon's, and to top it all off Varys knows about me."

It went quiet for a few moments before the Knight swore loudly before walking around the room in shock. One revelation was enough, but this was numerous, and neither of them were good. 

"I'll get a raven sent to your aunt and cousin to alert them if they haven't already been made aware of these developments, we need input of some kind."

Four days later he was still reeling from it all, fear ebbing deep within him now over what this now meant. One thing was for certain though, he was going to need to make a move and not remain idle like he had been for almost five months now. He's learned a lot in that short time but he would be a fool if he were to say he was an expert. He knew he wasn't. Then again, was there even such a thing as being an expert when it came to political manoeuvre's? If there was, then nobody would be able to outplay one another, there would always be a way to wriggle out of a situation. This was some comfort at least to him. 

He was sat atop his bed reading up on those who were previously sworn to his House and why they had switched sides, taking note of the ones who had no choice but to switch sides. There were a few in the Crownlands, the same as in the Riverlands, and the rest was a scatter. Once he'd finished taking notes, he stood up and walked down into the training yard. He could beat Torghen easily with one sword but with two he ate dirt more often than nought, but he never came close to beating Arthur Dayne. The only way he'd knowingly been beat was when Howland literally stabbed the man in the back as he was about to kill his uncle. He knew Eddard was good with a sword, he just never showed it as he hates boasting. 

Jon had still to use Dark Sister when training. A sword as recognisable as that would immediately burst their bubble. But at least he could use Longclaw. The differing weight from regular steel to Valyrian steel was startling, and he knew when he finally does start to use his other one he would be off balance as he was now used to using a heavier blade. Of course, he could just use the hilt cover Mikken had made for him, but he couldn't hide the material it was made from. It's so sought after and it is incredibly expensive. Hence why if someone is fortunate enough to come into possession of it, it gets passed though the family and are considered sacred. 

Most Houses have them. He has two himself, the Stark's have Ice, the Tarly's have Heartsbane, the Corbray's have Lady Forlorn. On and on it goes, but he did find it a little funny that neither the Lannister's nor the Tyrell's had one considering how often they boast of their riches. Then again, the former did have one but it was lost gods know how long ago, which led to the disappearance of Tywin's younger brother Gerion going on a mad hunt to find it. He snapped out of his thoughts as a greatsword came his way, quickly blocking the attack with Longclaw and bracing with his other sword. They'd started him on using live steel on his left hand a month prior which only made the training more dangerous. But he had one thing going for him, no blade is sharper than Valyrian steel.

The second swing came his way towards his head but he took notice of the loose grip on the hilt. Meaning he was using this as a distraction. He was correct in his assessment as the moment the two met with a loud cling of metal against metal, another was coming towards his ribcage with a vicious speed. He quickly bent down so the blade went over his head before chancing an upward swing- but Arthur had been expecting this move from the position he was in by forcing him to remain in such a compromising spot. He needs to get out of this, but how? Then it hit him, his legs were wide open and he was relatively small. Arthur either did not notice the way his eyes glinted or he ignored it as he reigned hellfire down on him from above, Jon barely able to keep up with the precision of the strokes. 

He knew it was dishonourable, and he knew his uncle would be furious if he found out he'd used the tactic he was about to use, but there's no place for honour on the battlefield. It's a kill or be killed situation, so you may as well go for it. Jon made it look like he was trying to get up when he was inching just a little further over until his left leg was behind Arthur's. The moment both swords came at him he quickly pulled his leg back, hooking his foot around the man's ankles, which sent him staggering. Using the temporary moment of confusion, he leaped up and disarmed him of one of his swords. Now, the odds were beginning to be in his favour. He has two blades, and the Knight had one. 

Jon took a deep breath before attacking back with as much force as he could muster, taking small pride in the slightly alarmed look in the other's eyes at the sheer speed he was going at. Each swing perhaps lasting a second- if that. But he was beginning to tire, his muscles screaming at him to be eased up on- but he couldn't do that. If this were a real fight, weakness could not be shown in any way. He seemingly blinked before feeling a horrid cramping in his right wrist which caused him to loosen his grip marginally, but advantage was taken and soon Longclaw was flying from his hands. He cursed silently to himself as he knew now that he was once again going to be eating dirt in a matter of moments. Gripping the hilt with both hands now, knowing he would need to use strength to try and beat him. 

It felt like it went on for hours but was likely only a few minutes before he spotted an opening. Wasting no hesitation, he used it which led to him temporarily having his back turned to the man but the sword came flying from his grip- only for him to then feel the biting cold of a metal blade against his skin under his neck. 

"Always remain on guard, weapons are not always kept in the open."

Admitting defeat, he raised his hands in surrender before turning to him to see him tucking a knife into his sleeve somewhere.

"That was a cheap shot, Ser- "

"There's no such thing as cheap shots in war, kid."

He knew that already, had even thought it when he'd tripped him up, but it slipped his mind for a split moment. If that were a real fight, his throat would've been slit open and drowning in his own blood. 

"Where's Torghen? Haven't seen him today."

He grabbed a cloth and wiped the sweat from his face and picking up Longclaw again to sheath it, placing his hand over the wolf pommel as he did so. 

"Away to purchase a new bow, that wolf of yours chewed through his."

He tried to hold in the snort, but it was impossible to do so and soon he let out a cackling laugh. Ghost had taken an unhealthy obsession with chewing everything in sight recently, but he was working on training him not to do so. The pair made their way back inside, trying desperately to ignore the lingering look Jojen was giving him. He'd hardly spoken to the boy since he'd arrived, the fact he would stare at him for minutes on end without blinking freaked him out big time. Out the corner of his eye, he spotted Meera practising with her spears, spinning them almost elegantly and fighting back with punches, kicks, and occasional thrusts whenever there was an opening. 

"Jon, come with me. You too Daemien, we need your input on this and if you had any idea about it."

Jyana seemingly appeared out of thin air in front of them before walking down the corridor. Both turned to one another quizzically before following the Lady through the many hallways and staircases. They were in Howland's solar again, and the Lord was pacing the room quietly with his eyebrows furrowed, confirming he was stressed about something. 

"My Lord?"

"Sit Jaeron, you too Arthur, no hanging around behind him. We just received a raven from your cousin Robb, and it is not good."

Jon immediately pinched his nose, another thing to add on to the shitstorm that is already happening? 

"There's a potential opening here to get a good ally and also bite Stannis Baratheon too, but it will cause even more political strife because if this succeeds the truth will need to come out sooner than intended."

Gods, what now? Once again, he kept his face passive as the raven was passed over to him. Cracking open the grey direwolf seal and opening the letter. He spotted Arthur leaning over just slightly to read it as well, and when it clicked both turned to one another in shock. 

"This just makes things exceedingly more complicated than they already were."

"Aye, it does. Gods Rhaegar you secretive idiot!"

Arthur stood up and began pacing the room, clearly in shock at what this was. Clearly figuring something out. Both Howland and Jon were looking to him oddly, the younger especially as he had never spoken badly about his father yet here he was calling him an idiot? 

"Ser?"

No other words were needed, the question was obvious. Steadily, Arthur sat back down in his seat and read it again, and again, and again. 

"I thought he was just trying to remain friendly with Monford regarding that damned pact by being curious. But the timing of it, he took interest in it after that damnable tourney- "

Slowly, Jon stood up now as it hit him like a brick what Arthur had now realised, fully understanding now why he had called Rhaegar an idiot. After the tourney, after he had met Lyanna, after he and Elia were separated, when they were sending numerous letters back and forth to one another. He must've taken an interest in it because he wanted to marry Lyanna long before he had, and to smooth tensions was going to bring up the pact. Rhaegar was going to raise the North to Principality like Dorne was, showing he saw Elia and Lyanna equally and not one being better than the other. 

"Seven hells, so Monford Velaryon knows they were wed?"

"I don't know if he knows they were wed with certainty, but he'll at least suspect it heavily. I've known Monford and Aurane since they were little boys, their father brought them to the Red Keep and to Dragonstone frequently due to their proximity at Driftmark. It takes a little more than a day to travel between the three."

Jon pinched his eyes now in irritation, this was both excellent and terrible- and completely terrifying. 

"Stannis is currently building a fleet with them in preparation for something. That man would never betray his family and is as stubborn as steel. So, he's either found something out which threatens his family and is protecting them, or he had found something out that harms his own family and is preparing. I doubt it's the first one because Stannis despises Robert, he took it as a huge insult that Robert gave Storm's End to Renly as he was what- five name-days at the time? Perhaps even younger?"

"Which means he's found something out which puts his own family on the frontline. I can't picture it being Selyse as they hate one another- but he loves his daughter. Deformity and all, everyone is aware he will do anything for Shireen."

The younger was looking back and forth between the two, trying to make sense of their words. And then an idea came to him, one that would need a lot of work but he can see it being beneficial. A little more than a day away by ship, and he wants the other Valyrian family on his side for their ships and due to their shared kinship. 

"What if I were to reveal myself to Monford, Aurane, and Monterys only? This solidifies the pact and we could remain quiet on the Principality side of it until we find a way to either bring Dorne on board or have them remain neutral. We could have them spy on Stannis by pretending to be loyal to him when in reality- "

"They would be loyal to you, giving you an upper hand."

Arthur spoke the words quietly, thinking it through in his head. That was an idea. Stannis was also previously on the small council meaning he will know a lot of the inside schemes in the capital and surrounding the Baratheon's and Lannister's. Howland was smiling brightly at him; clearly proud he'd thought of that. He'd made a political move before by staging the mummery to make it look as though he was missing beyond the Wall somewhere, but this was something else entirely. He knew now just how long and complicated the game was, but playing it really made it a reality. 

"Your aunt is currently riding this way before heading to White Harbour to speak to Varys directly. I'm sure she'll be able to figure out if this is a good move to make."


	19. XVIII

Catelyn I

It had been a long time since Catelyn had left Winterfell. And it had been even longer since she had last made any kind of dealing politically. It had been a topic she was always good at, but she was nowhere near as clever as the Spider. That much she knew for certain. She'd only met him a handful of times, and every time he always knew exactly where she was, who she was with, why she was there, and what was going to happen. A part of her doubted anyone had a network of spies as expansive as he. Everyone keeps spies, she herself has some, and she convinced Ned to get a few as well when he first rode off to join in the rebellion. He had not taken kindly to that, thought it too southern, but she was saved when Wyman Manderly confirmed he had a network himself. It was only then he had agreed to take on a few, but it was not a network by any means. It was the bare minimum to keep her paranoia at bay.

She remembered being twelve and her father pulling her aside to show her the betrothal offers she had been given. Even then she had thought of the implications of it all, and she knew the most advantageous for her House was undoubtedly Brandon Stark, but she had been hesitant. Godswoods were nothing new to her, nor were heart trees. They had one in Riverrun as did many of the great houses down south. But unlike their northern counterparts and the Blackwood's, did not worship the religion. She had been anointed under the seven-pointed star and her gods had faces. Faces she could describe in perfect detail without needing a reference. The North was a strange place to her. 

Nonetheless, she knew her position as the eldest daughter of Lord Hoster Tully, so she had watched as he wrote a response to Lord Rickard agreeing to the match. She didn't meet her intended for a few more years, on her sixteenth name-day. Less than a year before he was taken from her and she had wed his younger brother in his stead as custom decreed. Brandon had been loud, boisterous, ambitious, and vain. It was a welcome change for Catelyn, the south was filled with people who as Ned referred to them were nothing but overgrown roosters and peacocks. As degrading as it was, it was a relatively accurate description.

In the years prior she had read up on as much as she could about the culture she would be thrown into, and she had surprised him greatly with her knowledge regarding it. He was honest with her too, how he had already sired two bastards but promised her in both the Sept and the Godswood he would never sire another once they were wed. His words had been sincere, and she believed him. But then the day came, only a few days after they agreed on a date for the wedding when he said he had to go away for some time as he had unfinished business. She'd kissed him for the first time that day and little did she know it was the last time she would see him. 

A month later her father received the raven that he had been imprisoned for threatening Prince Rhaegar in front of King Aerys. She had been confused, not knowing why he had gone to the Red Keep. But then whispers of rebellion and oath breaking began, and a few days later they received a raven from Rickard confirming what had happened. A month after this both father and heir were dead, now knowing she would have to wed his younger brother. A man he had spoken often about over how quiet he was. Apparently a total opposite of Brandon, and it set dread in her stomach. She had liked Brandon, a lot, and now she had to wed someone she had never met before.

To think that was almost eighteen years ago now, and she could remember every part of it as if it had all happened the day before. From the dark green dress that she was wearing with silver trimming, to the deep red Edmure had been wearing when their father had confirmed they were going to war against the Targaryen's, and the pale silver Lysa preferred. To the way she'd had her hair intricately braided to look like she had a crown atop her head with a couple of loose ringlets dangling around the sides of her face. 

Yet here she was. Going against what her father had done by supporting her Targaryen nephew in his claim. So much had happened in the time she had been told that at times it made her feel like years had gone by, yet it had only been a little more than nine months. She'd been horrified, disgusted, shocked, and numerous other things when the words fell from Ned's lips. How he'd found his sister dying from being cut open to get her son out of her, of how he found out that she hadn't been kidnapped and either Brandon had assumed wrong or someone had told him she had been taken against her will. That Elia was fully aware of what was going on and that Lyanna and Rhaegar were wed on the Isle of Faces. 

It was a place that sent shivers down her spine, and not in a good way. It was the only place in the south which had a natural Godswood, all others being planted as a sign of peace between the Andals and the First Men thousands of years before. Said to be filled with a foreign race of humans they called the Green Men and rumoured to still have some Children hidden in the numerous forests. Plus, the God's Eye was the sight of many battles over the years. It was the place Maegor the cruel had slain his nephew Aegon, where Daemon stabbed his nephew Aemond in the eye during the dance. There had been numerous others- countless between the Bracken's and Blackwood's themselves before the seven Kingdoms were united. That was a feud that would never go away, only an absolute miracle would have those two Houses being civil.

That would cause an issue down the line. Catelyn knew with certainty that if worded correctly she would get her own Houses men on Jaeron's side, the Mooton's would probably be easy to get as well as they fought alongside Rhaegar in the rebellion. A couple of lesser Houses did too. But the Blackwood's would flock to his side due to their shared blood. After all, his twice great-grandmother had been Betha. But there was a problem there, they didn't have as many men as their biggest rival. The choice comes down to more men or distant relations. In the south, distant relations are not a big thing, but said House came from the North. Had asked for refuge in the Riverlands after being driven from the North, and the North is fiercely protective over family. Hence why the Karstark's are so loyal- even though there hasn't been a marriage between the secondary branch and the main branch in a long time. 

But that wasn't going to be for a while, or she hopes so. She needs to be able to have Varys at the least remain neutral and not to spill the secret. If he did, all their heads would be on spikes, the North would rebel against the south, and it would be a never-ending war. Northerner's are proud people, and hold what they believe close to heart, and will fight until the final man. With the thought in mind, she closed her bags over that were filled with dried beef, coin so she could stay at inns on the way down and for her ship, and clothes. She'd also made sure to wrap the copy of the pact up tightly, needing to show it to Jon when she sees him. Her mind was still reeling with it, and Robb's was too as he had barely spoken to anyone today. 

It had been chaotic yesterday, massively so. One thing after another after another. The next more damning than the one previous. She'd had Maester Luwin send a raven the night prior to Greywater Watch to alert Howland she was coming down. At first, she was simply going to go straight for White Harbour and straight to Kings Landing from there, but she couldn't make decisions for Jon, he had to do them himself. She'd been shocked when Robb told her he was going to press on the claim, despite having a hunch of it when he came up with the mummery they were playing. Except it wasn't a mummery anymore as now the girls were in on it. 

The few ravens that had been sent their way from where they were, it bothered her how vague they were. The only thing he wasn't being vague on was how quickly the dragons were growing, they were not the tiny hatchlings she'd first lay her eyes on a little more than five months ago. They were around the size the wolves were when they were first brought to the castle, yet now they were slightly larger than horses. That was scarily quick, and a part of her hoped his research into it was correct and they could be mounted early. If they continue growing at the rate they were, perhaps they won't need to hold things off by at least a year. Dragging out an impending war is a difficult thing to do, and they could not make a misstep. If they did, the chain they've started weaving will immediately unravel. 

A part of Catelyn was nervous about facing him again. It wasn't until a few days after she had been told that she began to treat him as family, and at best he left when they were on civil matters. Now, she's had time to think deeply into it, knowing she needs to support her family. Family comes first no matter what to her House. Meaning she had to stand by him, for her children's sake. She'd failed him until recently by sheltering him and ignoring him often, being downright awful at times. She remembered the time when she'd had a massive argument with Ned over it and that night she made a terrible wish. The next morning the boy was being attended to by Maester Luwin as he was screaming in agony from the pox. He'd only been seven then. To wish death on a child is a horrific thing, and she had done that horrific thing. It was only when she was told that there was an incredibly high chance he would not survive the night did she take leave to the small Sept Ned had built for her and praying to all the gods to make him live.

The mother for forgiveness for her awful wish, the stranger not to take him, the smith to make him strong enough to survive, the father to watch over him, the maiden to care for him, the crone to give him the will to pull through, and the warrior to make him not fall to such a fate again. Her prayer had been answered, as he had survived the night. He'd had a fever for the following week after this and she made a silent promise to herself she would treat him as kin after this. 

And she'd failed to keep that promise.

But now she had a chance to prove herself, and she was going to keep at it now. No one ever knew about what she had done, and she planned to keep it that way. Rickon had cried when she mounted her horse, begging her to come back. She had simply reached down and tossed his auburn curls he shared with his brothers and eldest sister, and promising she would come back. Looking at her children, it was difficult to see many of them were even half-Stark. All taking after her in her Tully colouring apart from Arya. Another reason she had hated Jon before she knew the truth. Because he looked more like a Stark than her own did and all were trueborn. But then came feisty little Arya which proved that her colouring was not completely wiping out Stark colouring. 

Thinking on it now, she realised just how lucky Eddard had been with Jon. If he had been born with silver hair it would've been game over in a matter of minutes. Alas, he simply inherited purple eyes which tied in with the rumour that was circulating at the time regarding Ned and Ashara. She had even brought it up once herself, and that was one of the only times she had felt scared of her husband. Clearly he cared for her somewhat, but whether it was love she would never know. The Dayne woman had thrown herself from the highest tower in Starfall in her grief. 

It took her a little more than a day to reach an inn, and she had revelled in allowing the dirt to soak off her. This would be the only inn for five days if she remembered correctly, and she was going to make the most of it considering she was going to be living on salt beef and sleeping in a makeshift tent. It was going to be a long journey no matter what. First heading to Greywater Watch to discuss things with Jon directly, then she would be heading North to White Harbour where she would then be travelling down to Kings Landing to speak with Varys. That was something Catelyn was not looking forward to in the slightest. She remembered the overly perfumed man from Harrenhal and the glare Rhaegar had given him. Clearly he wasn't wanted there but what for? He must've known or done something that had angered the Prince. 

She'd been thinking back on that fated tourney a lot lately, trying to work everything out. Even excluding Lyanna's tourney stunt it was just filled with drama. From the fights that were breaking out, to Rhaegar calling a mass meeting which was interrupted by the first sighting of his father in years, to King Aerys naming Jaime Lannister to his Kingsguard and then boasting of how he was now his and not Tywin's. The Lion had not been there during it all, still heavily insulted by his attraction to Joanna and refusing Cersei's hand in marriage to his heir. Lannister's are proud, they always have been, but Tywin tripled that stereotype. Castamere was enough proof of that. He'd flooded and drowned hundreds of people solely because they didn't pay their taxes to their liege who at the time was Tytos. Many people took advantage of the pious man, but no one suffered a worse fate than the Reyne's and Tarbeck's had. And they'd had the audacity to make a song boasting about the victory too.

A small smile came onto her face as without anyone's knowledge two Kingdom's were planning to revolt against the crown, they just had to wait on the perfect timing. All she had to do was play up to her houses values to her father to have him switch his side to her nephew. And if he didn't, then she could simply state that they wouldn't be in the position they are now without the Targaryen's. She'd need to speak to Jon on it beforehand though firsthand, in case he had any plans brewing. 

A further six days had passed before she finally spotted the swamps that encased the Neck, her nose turning up a little in disgust. She remembered being young with Edmure and Lysa, daring one another to jump into the Green Fork. Her brother had pushed her once, and it was a chore wiping off all the dirt from her skin from that escapade. How old had she been then? Eleven? Twelve? Perhaps even younger? One thing was for certain, it did not feel like it was that long ago, it felt like it were yesterday. But steadily, she and Lysa drifted apart and Edmure barely spoke to her considering they were due to go on completely different paths around that time. But they were still family, and she loved them fiercely. Perhaps she could pay them a visit. The Eyrie is only around four days from Greywater Watch- no. There was a task at hand, trying to prevent a war from breaking out right now. Time is needed, and they don't have much time to prepare. It's a race at this point, and hopefully they will be the first to cross the line and remain ahead. 

Jaeron XV

"Have you drafted the raven, my Lord?"

Howland turned to Jaeron at this before nodding in acceptance. The younger pleased by the response. They had talked for days regarding what to do with the Velaryon's, and they decided to word it as a trade agreement. Since hardly anyone ever travels to the Neck, and the Crannogmen isolate themselves so much, there were bountiful amounts of things available to do so. And considering it was the only place on the continent which had such materials, made it valuable. It had actually been Jyana's idea to do this, and it wasn't intentional. She had been skinning a lizard lion Meera had shot down the day prior for the meat to give to the kitchen staff, and stated more people should use the skin as the material was incredibly strong.

Perhaps it wasn't the most creative nor was it the most political, but it was the best idea they had come up with to turn this into something it wasn't. That's what the game is about, making it look as though what you are going for is the last thing on the list. Therefore, when the time comes to strike nothing can tear down the foundations. Five days had passed since the letter from Robb arrived detailing what they had discovered and what it meant for everyone. Why a Principality of all things? Yes, it was agreed upon almost two centuries ago now, but still. Surely there must've been some other agenda hidden in it. Unfortunately, there would be no way to know for certain as everyone who had witnessed such an agreement had been dead for a very long time. Jacaerys shot down by the Myrish, Lucerys killed by Aemond one-eye, Rhaena in battle, Rhaenyra eaten alive by her half-brothers dragon Sunfyre, Joffrey thrown from his mother's dragon Syrax trying to free his own in the ensuing riots. The whole thing was a mess, and it all happened because people refused to name a female as a sole Queen despite her father stating she was his heir and not his son to his second wife. 

If ambition is insanity, then there would be no such things as Houses in Westeros.

Robb's words had been circling around in his head a lot these last few days, words he had spoken when he had researched up on his family to find out where the belief that the Targaryen's were insane came from. Even now, there's no answer to that. Only two had sat on the throne itself, and one could be explained as making up for his pushover brother-cousin. Everything could be explained in a logical manner, even Aerys. He had been imprisoned for months on end, beaten, tortured, starved, and who knows what else until Ser Barristan pulled his daring stunt. He'd even considered sending the elderly man a raven to confirm who he was, but that would be a dumb move to make. Howland soon appeared again with the parchment in question so he could read over it in detail. It was a tempting offer, a 35% share in the earnings for such a trade, and due to Driftmark's proximity to Kings Landing, they would be swimming in gold and silver. 

He was about to seal it off before a thought came to his mind. He asked for Howland to take some wax and the stamp he'd had made for him. The older was surprised by this, but he knew it was an order so he did as he was told. It was a risky move, but it was one needed. Things are moving considerably faster than he would like them to, meaning they need to move quickly. Allies are going to be needed, hence why Arthur was going to be taking him down to Starfall at the end of the month to meet with his sister Allyria. There had been some welcome news from her recently, that Edric had accepted to be Beric Dondarrion's squire, a possible entry to getting that House to his cause. Jaeron was nervous about doing so, he'd heard a lot about his youngest sister and that she knew it all from the beginning through her older siblings. Were any others let in to said private talks when the truth was revealed? It was something he probably wouldn't find out himself. Howland reappeared now and he was noticeably giving him an odd look. This time, he complied;

"Things are moving too fast to just sit idle. They're the best bet for my first allies due to the shared history between the Houses."

He nodded before sitting down in front of him, watching as the wax melted, red and black entangling together once more but with another red dragon. 

"What are you going to do with the others terms of the pact?"

Jaeron sighed at this before looking the shorter directly in the eye.

"We can't do anything with the other part of it. It was an agreement for a hostage swap of the youngest siblings. Monford only has one child- "

"You could do Aurane."

The younger froze in surprise at this, why had that thought not come to him before now? It was something that needed to be discussed heavily with them, and if said family agrees to join the fold then there's going to be even more demands than normal with them. By now, the wax had melted and he carefully poured some onto the corner of the parchment, and leaving the stamp in place for it to dry. Jyana brought up having it made for him specifically, and he was glad she had done so. 

"We will fold this up and place it inside another piece of parchment. That will hide the stamp from anyone apart from them and whoever their Maester is."

Silence ensued for a few more minutes as both let it all sink into them. Howland knew how to play the game despite not appearing to be someone who would, but playing it was something else. Weaving silk until it turns into cobwebs where they are the spider and everyone else is the insect who gets caught in the web. Except it's not small things. Lions, stags, roses, and who knows what else.

"My Lord, the Lady has been spotted about an hour North."

Howland nodded to the man who had walked in before leaving the room, leaving Jaeron to his own devices. Slowly, he removed the stamp and he felt his stomach coil awkwardly upon seeing the roaring three headed dragon. He'd been half-tempted to create a new seal of two dragons and a direwolf, but that would just look like he was forming a secondary branch. And no one needs a secondary branch with his House. Not after House Blackfyre got created through it. He crossed his legs and eyed over the wording a few times before folding it neatly into a small square and placing it inside another roll to completely cover the seal from view. Then he grabbed Howland's own one to close it off from sight. It was done now, no turning back anymore. Even though there were times where he really wanted to just pack it in and go back to the life he'd had before, that was something unattainable to him now. Too much has been weaved together already to give up so soon into it. 

He stood up and walked outside only to see Arthur and Torghen were sparring one another. That was a spectacular sight, because both knew the others style incredibly well, therefore every fight was different as they integrated new techniques in to try and cause the other to fail. They'd drawn a few times, but the only person who ever won was the Sword of the Morning- which was not surprising. And Eddard had sparred against him one on one and managed to hold his own. Perhaps he would be able to fight with his uncle one day, but it wouldn't be any time soon. One wrong move on his part and all their heads will come off their shoulders. It was still so new to him, but luckily he was adapting well. Even if he stumbled on occasion and worked on ideas with others. Then again, isn't that what the small council is for in the first place? 

He shook his head at this, willing the thought away. It was something else he would need to do, gather people to bring into the fold he could trust completely not to betray him. But trust was not an easy thing. Even Aemon had told him that, and he wasn't going to go back on the elderly mans wisdom. They'd not sent any correspondence for a few weeks but with everything going on, it didn't feel right to casually send a raven to him. Although, there was one good thing that came of it all. After receiving the raven that someone in Moles Town told Varys the truth, he'd asked Elyssa to send her eagle to spy on the area. And he was furious when it came back it was one of the brothers who had snuck off to spend a night with a whore- said whore being one of his famed birds. Howland had sent a raven to Jeor confirming what had happened but they had yet to receive a response. No one can blab about this, one was dangerous enough. Then again, he shouldn't have revealed it in a fit of anger either so he was just as much at fault as the person who had spoken.

It didn't seem like much time had passed at all before Jyana was summoning him to the courtyard as Catelyn would be here in a matter of minutes. Gulping loudly, he made sure his clothing sat perfectly before making his way down. He was nervous, it had been months since he had seen her. And at best they had left on civil terms, but far from friendly. A lot can change in such a short amount of time, he knew that now. He was situated behind Jojen and Meera but still in view of everyone unlike when they had gatherings in Winterfell where he wasn't visible unless you were looking for him specifically. It was another jarring difference and it was one he would have to get used to. When the time comes, he will be the one at the front and not hiding behind people. Not long after, the Lady was escorted inside, her auburn hair hidden by a black scarf. Clearly as a way to hide herself somewhat. He noticed she was carrying a rather large bag and a leather pouch of some kind. Once she was introduced formally, Howland stepped forward and invited her to his solar to discuss things. 

She didn't look his way once, and this set him on edge. She must've noticed him because he was considerably taller than the Reed children, which means she wasn't looking for him. What was she playing at? He simply bit his lip lightly and walked back inside, Arthur and Torghen following close behind. Both were giving him odd looks at the exchange, but he didn't know any better than they did. Meera immediately went back to throwing spears at the targets she was previously and Jojen went to the other side of the castle. A part of him was glad for that, the boy set him on edge massively. He had to spend enough time with him when he and his father were training him on how to use his warging power. Other than that, their interactions were so little he could remember every word that was spoken. By now, Howland had confessed about his odd vision regarding a wolf trapped in a cage surrounded by lions. 

Jaeron had been startled and was furious he had waited so long to tell him about it, but he couldn't remain angry at the man because he knew he was looking out for him. Eddard's letters spoke of how many Lannister men there were in the Red Keep and that he found it odd there were so few Baratheon men. He'd also stated that Prince Joffrey commonly wore a crest that depicted his parents Houses as equal seats of power. What did it all mean? He didn't have much time to think though as a servant walked up and stated the Lord had asked to speak to him directly. The other two moved to follow him but it was stated that he was to go alone, which caused Arthur to bite his cheek noticeably but standing down. With the thought in mind, he made his way to Howland's solar and much to his relief, Catelyn looked him directly in the eye this time and gave him a small smile. It was barely there, clearly just as nervous as he was to be in a room together considering their past. 

"The Lady brought the pact with her, the original one. Here it is."

The younger took it and carefully unravelled the brittle parchment and reading over it. Seeing it himself was all the proof needed. 

"Lord Howland tells me you've got an idea."

His top lip curled in a little at this before sitting down, allowing the parchment in his hands to ravel back up and placing it back in the leather pouch.

"We've drafted a trade agreement with the Velaryon's so that we can speak with them and not have it look suspicious in any way. I'm planning on bringing Monford and Aurane into it, but I'm on the fence with Monterys currently. He would be useful but he's still young, and if things go bad he might be used as a hostage. A hostage with no knowledge is much better than a hostage with knowledge. We know from uncle's latest raven that Stannis fled the city and is building a fleet with them, meaning they will likely know what is going on. Due to the numerous shared links with our Houses, there's a chance they would deflect to me. In this case, we can use them as spies on Stannis and remain a step ahead."

Catelyn's eyebrows rose marginally, allowing his words to sink in before nodding in acceptance.

"That is a good plan, did you come up with that yourself?"

"Most of it he did, my Lady. The trade agreement was an accidental suggestion from my wife who was making new boots for Meera at the time, and it was the best of a bad bunch. He's also started creating a network of spies but there aren't many yet, and neither are being used yet, ensuring they're loyal to him first. Plus, he's got a very loyal first member of a Kingsguard already."

Now, she wasn't hiding her shock. Catelyn had been wholly expecting to come here and have to give him some of her own ideas. Pleasantly surprised was an understatement that he was already many steps ahead of her.

"And who is this Kingsguard member?"

Jaeron turned to Howland now and nodded to him, a silent order to go and get Arthur. The older caught on immediately, and he saw the amusement dancing across his distinct features. Now, they were alone in the room, and it didn't take long for the Lady to ask her question. He stood up and walked towards the window so he could stare down at the adjoined island where he was keeping Rhaegon and Lyrax sheltered.

"So, you're pressing on your claim nephew?"

Jon paused in his step as he eyed his aunt with trepidation. She'd arrived only an hour ago but they hadn't spoken to each other one on one until now, and he was terrified that the little relationship he was building with the Lady would disappear. This hadn't happened though; she had been relatively pleasant to him. It would be a long time before he ever trusted her or warmed to her, but it was considerably better than it had been before. He sighed deeply before making his way back to the desk, making sure to wipe all emotion from his face so he was just a blank canvas.

"I wanted to wait until Rhaegon and Lyrax were big enough to cause damage. No, I'm not going to be like my ancestors and burn hundreds to the ground to try and get them to bend to me, but fear is a good tactic when making alliances. I don't want the throne, aunt. But I do want vengeance against those who caused this whole mess. Robert Baratheon, Tywin Lannister, and who knows who else orchestrated it all. Although, I am aware of the bigger picture. Someone will be elected King if I succeed, and if I survive it, they probably will name me due to my blood link and heritage."

She simply nodded her head at this, letting his words sink in. She'd sent ravens to Howland Reed to ask him to teach the boy courtly mannerisms and how to survive during the great game. No, he hadn't actively participated in it, but all highborn knew of the great game. A game most were playing themselves. Everyone craves ambition deep down, and it was humbling that Jon didn't crave ambition for evil. He simply wanted justice for his family. But he would soon be an active participant, and he had to be ready for when the time comes.

"Well, you'll have the North at your back, you'll probably have the Vale through my sister but I cannot confirm with certainty. I love my sister, but she is a paranoid person, and she hates confrontation. With the correct persuasion, she will join the fold. You'll have the Riverlands through me and my father- "

"But doesn't your father hate my family?"

Catelyn was silent for a few moments before shaking her head. 

"A common misconception, Jon. It was my ancestor Edmyn who deflected against Harren the Black to join Aegon. After Harrenhal was destroyed by Balerion, Aegon raised House Tully to the station we are at now. We would've been a lesser House if it weren't for this, so we've always been favourable towards Targaryen's. The misconception that the Tully's of Riverrun hate your family comes from a failed betrothal, but it was jointly decided to be broken. There were no harsh intentions to this. It was further brought to light that we hate your family because we chose to fight with the rebels. What are my house words, nephew?"

Jon was sitting beside her, looking around in case anyone stumbled upon them. He could feel in his mind that Rhaegon and Lyrax were nearby, them having learned how to hide in forests from spending months in an attached island to Greywater Watch no one he and the family had access to. Dragons were intelligent creatures after all. 

"Family, duty, honour?"

He was confused where she was going with this, but he knew the answer would be something he would remember for a long time. How does a House who deflected from their King to join another King, turn to take down the family of said King they joined?

"Exactly, Jon. Family, duty, honour. To us Tully's, these three things are the values we hold dearest to us. Without family, we wouldn't be alive. Without duty, we wouldn't be alive nor would we be in the position we are. Without honour, much the same as the other two, but we would also be laughed off by every other Lord in Westeros. But a lot of people don't realise there is more to our words than this. Why not duty, honour, family? Why not honour, family, duty?"

The younger took a long gulp of his ale before turning to her again, the expression she was wearing on her face not one he was accustomed to.

"They are our main values, Jon. But how does one order said values? Honour gains respect and trust, duty earns loyalty and assures position, and family gives everything. Honour must come into account with every decision, but there is a time where honour is too much and it becomes stupid. Therefore, duty must always come before honour to solidify everything. But what is duty compared to the love of a family?"

Love is the death of duty. Words Aemon had told him when he had travelled to the wall on his way to Greywater Watch. He'd never thought for one minute what her words meant, and he was stunned into silence as she revealed their true meaning. 

"At the time the war started, you were already married to my uncle, and were previously promised to my other uncle. You were family, therefore bound by duty to support family, and duty compelled you to support the rebels."

From Catelyn's small smile, he knew his analysis was correct. It was a relief to him that he would have House Tully's support when he decides to come forward. Which going from how quickly the dragons had grown may be as soon as within the next year. They were both nearing fifteen feet now, Lyrax just a little smaller than Rhaegon, but equally as terrifying. He'd been surprised when he had saw them breathe fire the last few days. The flames they had breathed before now had been characteristic red/orange. Yet at some point in the last few days had turned to their colouring. Bright silver and sapphire blue with specks of black, red, and grey within. It was a spectacular sight, deadly, but spectacular.

"We need to concentrate on getting the Lannister's into a position where we can ensure the safety of Ned, Sansa, and Arya. That is paramount, we cannot have them gain any leverage to use against us. Aye, you have leverage in having two dragons, but you've said yourself you don't want to use them unless it is needed. In order to do this, we need to find a way to either break the betrothal with Sansa and Joffrey or have him set her aside for someone else. And a way to have Ned released from his Hand vows. If Stannis has fled the city and is trying to gain allies, then he knows something. That man is stiffer than the bricks that remain in the oldest parts of Winterfell. I'll try my best to find out when I go to speak with Varys but I cannot guarantee it. The eunuch speaks in the worst riddles imaginable."

"Is that where you're heading then? To Kings Landing to speak to him?"

Once again, she nodded his way.

"We need to at the very least have him remain neutral. You cannot go yourself as no offence Jon, you will not be able to hold your own against him. I'm glad you're learning quickly but he's had decades of experience whereas you've only had a few months. I doubt I'll be able to, but Robb cannot go as he has to remain to keep Winterfell and the North running. That leaves just me."

There was the confirmation that she was working in his favour and not solely for her own ambitions. She'd done her part for her House by allying the North with the Riverlands through her marriage. Not long after this though, the door opened and Howland walked in with Arthur behind. He had his helmet on which obscured everything bar his bright purple eyes. At first glance, his aunt probably thought he was a product with a Lysene delight. However, once the door was closed leaving the four in solitude, he removed his helmet to reveal his face. At the face she made, Jaeron allowed a small shred of amusement to ripple through him. 

"Everyone thinks you're dead!"

Arthur turned to Howland with a small smirk, clearly asking him to tell.

"He was sorely injured and we assumed him dead. I had to remain a few days behind so I could be nursed back to health and it was during this that I found out the blows we rained on him did not end him. He was weak, but that was it. Refused to bend to the Baratheon's and Lannister's, and wasn't going into exile. Only ourselves, my children, my wife, and a certain Torghen Hill know- "

"Torghen's here too?! Wasn't he banished to Pentos?!"

Jaeron was surprised at this, how did she know Torghen? That was a question for another time, now wasn't the correct time to do so.

"Aye, he is. Took him almost three months to get here considering he is an exile for refusing to bend. We've been training young Jaeron together. He's a very gifted fight, my Lady."

No sound was made at this, allowing her time to process it all. This was broken as she threw her head back and let out a loud laugh, something the younger had never seen her do. Confusion was welling up inside him as he spotted the smirks on the others faces. What did they find so amusing? 

"Torghen has a link to the Tollett's through his father, Jaeron. They're a lesser House but they're close to the Royce's of Runestone alongside the Arryn's of Gulltown. If you were to remove him from his exile when you go for it, you can potentially bring three Vale Houses into the mix."

That thought had never once occurred to him, and he was annoyed he hadn't considered that option. So that is what they did over the next few hours. Discussed potential allies and how to get them. Two Kingdoms were a certainty, a third a likely possibility, which gives him over half the continent fighting for him. This leaves four other Kingdoms to work through. Technically six if counting Dorne and the Iron Islands. If he keeps Theon close to him this will at the least have Balon remain neutral as he is his only son left considering his older siblings were killed in his stupid rebellion years prior. The pieces were finally beginning to fall into place, but it would be a very long road until the jigsaw is complete.


	20. XIX

Eddard VII

Not much had changed at all ever since that raven arrived at the small council meeting, something Eddard was glad about. The quiet Lord was never someone who coped well under a lot of pressure or a lot of differing scenarios, but that was something he had to endure these last few months. His father had raised him to say things as they were no matter what others thought of the statements, and it was something Jon Arryn had endorsed. Yet here he is, being loyal to his King but having to remain loyal to his nephew who was going to be plunging the continent into a war in the foreseeable future. 

It had been a little more than a month since he had sent the communication North and it unsettled him greatly he had yet to receive a response from either party. With Jon it was understandable considering he had to send a raven to the Wall first and then to him to evade detection. But Robb and Catelyn not sending any response to it all was the strange thing, they had been in regular correspondence ever since he and the girls had left. It had taken Sansa more than a week to forgive him for telling her Jon was likely dead, and Arya had still not forgiven him. They had always been the closest, and with the fact that they looked almost identical to one another would easily make people think they were twins. 

Well, perhaps not anymore. If what Howland's ravens said were true, then Jon was beginning to look exceptionally like Rhaegar in the face. Perhaps he always had but his Stark colouring just disguised it. Ned hadn't known Rhaegar very well, only met him a couple of times, and his face was as familiar as the Summer Isles to him. It had been more than seventeen years since he had last seen him, and the last time he had it was when he pushed through the massive crowds of the battlefield to see the silver Prince in the river with his chest caved in from Robert's spiked warhammer.

At the time, he had felt relief, had thought he had gotten justice for his father, brother, and sister from the act. But everything was thrown into the sea when he found Lyanna dying with her stomach cut open, her newborn son against her chest. Guilt was something he didn't feel often, but he sure did then. Even now, it was difficult to pinpoint where it all kicked off. Had it been when his head was called for alongside Robert's by Aerys? Had it been when Lyanna disappeared? Had it been when his brother went to the Red Keep and was imprisoned? Was it when his father was burned alive with Brandon just out of reach with a rope tied so tightly around his neck that he strangled himself trying to free their father? Or was it when Rhaegar rode past Elia to lay that crown of winter roses in Lyanna's lap?

It had all happened so quickly, everything was a blur now. And now it was beginning to kick off again. His nephew training to be a master politician with his wife helping out alongside Howland Reed, Robb helping out whenever he could amongst his own Lordly duties, Arya accidentally finding out that Jon had dragons that according to Catelyn were the size of war horses now. A boy Varys was hiding as a Blackfyre, Stannis fleeing the city and allying with the Velaryon's. War was imminent now, and it was a waiting game he was not prepared for nor was it one he wanted to be involved in. But family comes first for him, no matter what. It was only more difficult due to the betrothal that was in place. If Jon presses on the claim, Sansa will become a hostage. If the truth comes out, all will be hostages. There was only one thing he could do, and that was getting the girls out and finding a way to break this betrothal. 

But he didn't want to hurt his daughter. He saw the way she looked at Joffrey, as if he had hung the sun and moon for her and her alone. However, people talked, and it wasn't good. His lip curled in a little as he remembered that once the young Prince had cut open a pregnant cat as he wanted to see unborn kittens and then presented them to Robert. Ned had asked his friend about that, and the way his face darkened was all the confirmation needed. Plus, he was still nowhere near figuring out what Jon Arryn had died over. He eyed the book in front of him with trepidation, completely confused on why the elderly man was researching every member there had ever been of any House. There was something here, and it had led to his predecessor being poisoned by the Lannister's.

But what was it?

It couldn't be something obvious because if it was then everyone would know about it. Something that he would see if the surface was scratched. But with nothing to go on, he didn't know what surface to crack. Was it the Lannister's? Was it the Baratheon's? Was it another House sworn to either party? Perhaps it was a mixture of everything? Ned shook his head, ridding himself of the thoughts currently circulating inside his head before he drives himself insane. It was times like these he wished Benjen had not taken the black, he was fantastic with solving problems like this. He remembered a time he had created a wooden puzzle when he was bored and gave to them to try. He had given up after around ten minutes, Lyanna had thrown it at him in a fit as she could not figure it out, and Brandon had tried to crack it for days before finally giving in. 

Everything was so simple then. But then his sister just had to take part in that tourney secretly and getting herself wrapped into something unprecedented. If things had worked out differently, she would've been the Queen and not Cersei Lannister. He wasn't sure what it was about the Lioness that set him on edge, her face always as still as a statue. Probably would be a delight to paint or sketch as she never moved her features unless she was talking and even then her mouth barely moved an inch. In two separate scenarios his wild little sister would've been the one on top. If Rhaegar won, she would've been his Queen. If she hadn't died in childbed she would've been Robert's Queen. Clearly for her, it was not meant to be. But it could be for her son. 

Jaeron, the last known legitimate male heir of House Targaryen. 

It was a good name, that he mused. One that could've easily been passed off as a Northern name, and a part of him wondered if that was partially the reasoning behind it. Apparently Rhaegar had wanted to name him Visenya if he were a girl from Lyanna's letters, clearly going for a theme by naming his children after the conqueror and his sisters. He remembered her words well as he watched her bleeding out, still cradling the newborn to her chest with tears streaming down her face. Of how they had chosen the name in the chance of a second male heir so there would be a new start.

He hadn't said it at the time, but a part of him thought that because the babe was Lyanna's whom Robert claimed to love, he would allow him to live. He would've been his step father, could've been disinherited but remain a part of the family or be allowed to be raised in Winterfell knowingly. However, he now knew differently. The sheer rage on the older mans face when the raven arrived explaining that Daenerys was pregnant. To the complete joy when news arrived of Viserys' death came. Seemingly the man forgot that the first member of House Baratheon was the bastard brother of Aegon, Visenya, and Rhaenys. And that there had been numerous Baratheon's who had been hands, Steffon himself being one before his untimely end off the coast of Storm's End right in sight of his sons. 

Perhaps this was when his resentment began. Steffon had been sent on a mission to find a bride of Valyrian blood for Rhaegar, but it had failed miserably. The only ones he had apparently found had been prostitutes, and Aerys did not want that for his son. Then came the stupid move of refusing Tywin Lannister and spiting him. Rickard's words haunting him even to this day. No matter what son, do not pull the Lion's tail. A fact that was proven when the man ordered the butchering of Elia and her children. Plus the fact that the people who had done the deed were rewarded. He'd seen Amory Lorch a few times in the castle, and every time he thought of what it would be like to stab him half a hundred times like he had done with the infant Rhaenys. The child is not at fault for the parents actions, something that was known in the North. Another thing that confused him about how the South worked. How could two areas of land neighbouring one another be so different to one another?

With all this knowledge now spinning in his head, he knew he needed to clear some of it off his chest. He needs to do something, but what can he do? The only logical thing he could think of was getting the girls out, but having to weave it in a way that wasn't suspicious was going to be difficult. Part of him wished Cat were here. If anyone could think of a way to do so, she was a likely contender. Alas, she was in Winterfell with their boys helping Robb run the keep in his stead. Ned himself had only been a year older than Robb when he inherited the North, something he wasn't ever supposed to do. Second sons usually at best will be granted their own keep and are made to swear loyalty to their fathers and elder brother. 

It had happened with the Targaryen's on a few occasions, two times in particular sticking out to him. Jaehaerys I was the third son of King Aenys, and Aegon V was the fourth son of a fourth son. Even Aegon III was the same, the fourth son of Rhaenyra and then his brother Viserys II inheriting when he and his sons were dead. All rulers in question were known and commended for their maturity when it came to ruling. Especially considering two hadn't even been men grown when they ascended. They just had the added advantage of having grown up in the Red Keep and knew the ins and outs of the capital like the back of their hands. Age isn't the teller of a good ruler- it's wisdom and having the grace to accept humility. 

Which was something Robert did not have, nor did Joffrey. That much he knew for certain. He couldn't say the same about Tommen though as he was still very young and had the opportunity to be moulded to be a good ruler. Now, he bit his lip, ridding himself of the treasonous thoughts in his head. 

"Lord Hand, you have been requested to a small council meeting."

He waved the guard off and he watched as his red and gold cape swished around his feet and disappearing from sight. What was it with all these Lannister men in the keep? He'd seen a few Baratheon men but hardly any. And when he had asked about it, Robert had simply laughed and said they refused to leave Storm's End and Dragonstone. Likely. But he never voiced this aloud, knowing Robert would take great offence to it. It didn't take a genius to figure out the Lannister's were up to something, but what was the question. What else had they to gain? Jaime as Kingsguard , Cersei as Queen, her children heirs, and richer than the Reach, Vale, and North combined. He fastened the brooch to his leather jerkin, remembering the other one Arya had found for a split second before leaving to join in. He wracked his mind hard, as far as he was aware there were no scheduled meetings today nor were there any for a few days for that matter. Something must've happened.

His gut coiled inside of him, panic beginning to seep in. Had Varys told Robert? Was he walking to his death right now? And if he was, why was he not afraid? He was always brought up that imminent death was the only time a man could be afraid. But if it wasn't this, then what was it? Whatever it was, it must be serious. The entire journey down he kept his face passive, refusing to let any emotion onto his face in case anyone lurking were spies and saw his inner turmoil. It already unsettled him enough that Cersei had spies strategically placed so they wouldn't be noticed if he weren't looking for them, but in perfect position for him to see. That had sent him on edge, remembering the way Varys had smiled a little when he had told him about this. 

"Ned, take a seat."

Hearing Robert's voice momentarily stumped him. Ever since he had come here, the only time he had been in these meetings was when news of Daenerys and Viserys had arrived. That was only two occasions though, out of dozens. This set his dread even more but he somehow managed to keep a straight face.

"Forgive me, your Grace. I wasn't made aware there was to be a meeting today."

He watched intently, noticing the way Cersei's eyes were flashing, only realising now that she was there. This only made him feel more uncomfortable than he already did.

"We received a raven today Ned, from the Eyrie. Are you aware of what your goodsister has done?"

Just like that, all air seemingly left him and relief washed over him like a waterfall. This meant it wasn't what he thought. What had Lysa done now? Had they found out that she sent a letter to Catelyn telling her the Lannister's had murdered Jon Arryn? 

"I have not heard from Lysa in years Robert, her and Cat are not very close with one another. She took it as a great insult when we offered to foster Robyn for her."

It felt good to be truthful again. It seemed that lying was the only thing he had been doing as of late, and it made him feel awful. Eddard had always despised lying with a passion, but he has to, to protect his family. Steadily, Robert slid the parchment over to him to read, now feeling the rage coming from the Queen. Clearly whatever was in here angered her greatly. Gods Lysa, what have you done? He turned it over to see the navy seal stamped with the falcon of House Arryn, confirming it had been sent from the Eyrie. Opening it and he realised it was indeed her handwriting. As he read, his eyes began to widen massively, panic beginning to seep in again. Don't pull on the lion's tail, his father's words circulating in his head once again.

"Your goodsister has taken my brother and has accused him of murdering Jon Arryn. For your sake my Lord, you had best talk sense into her-"

"Silence woman."

The Queen seethed in her seat before promptly leaving the room, her deep red silks flowing behind her and very much looking like flames. 

"I'll send Cat a raven alongside the Blackfish tonight, your Grace. We'll talk sense into her and have her release your goodbrother."

Numerous pairs of eyes darted to him with skepticism, and he caught the way Varys' lingered just a little bit longer on him. Not enough for it to be noticeable, but he had been anticipating it so had expected him to do so. He is hiding a boy as a Blackfyre, and he knows he was hiding a legitimate male Targaryen. If even a peep of that escaped, that would be it. War would happen within a matter of hours. 

"See to it that you do, lets just hope my goodfather will not raise the seven hells up beforehand. Now, you have the keep to yourself for a few weeks Ned. I'm going on a hunting trip with Renly and a few of my men."

His stomach tightened once more at this, but he knew an order when he heard one. This wasn't Robert Baratheon speaking, this was King Robert. And he wasn't going to disobey his King. You cannot be loyal to two Kings. The thought passed through him for a split second but he simply nodded before heading for his own room. There was nothing to it now, he had to make sure the girls got home. It was far too dangerous here. Wolves don't do well in warm climates, that fact was well known. No Stark fared well in the South, and now wasn't going to be any different. Once he was in his room, he summoned both his daughters and shut his blinds. Both looked to him strangely at this but he simply pinched his nose before saying;

"I'm sending you two back to Winterfell."

The horror on Sansa's face was only there for a split second.

"What?! I can't leave! I'm betrothed to the Prince! We're getting married and I'm going to be his Queen and we're going to have children- "

"Seven hells."

Normally, he would scorn Arya for cursing, but there was no need to do so here. If anything, he was amused by her interjection.

"This isn't me punishing you. I won't sugarcoat it to you both, but war is coming. If you two don't leave now, things are only going to get worse."

Arya seemed happy with the explanation, but he noticed his eldest daughter was panicking beside her sister.

"But father! I can't scorn the Prince, I'll be labelled the rejected one. Please, I want to be with him. I love him and I'm going to give him plenty of sons with beautiful golden hair like their father. Be lions like him- "

"You are aware that Baratheon's are stags, you idiot."

Something clicked right then, his mouth parting a little bit. 

"I know that but he's nothing like that drunk. He favours his mother and he'll never be like him."

He bit his lip hard before ordering them to go to their rooms and begin packing immediately. By now, Sansa was practically bawling. Her eyes were red and puffy and she was sniffling hard. But Arya grabbed her hand and dragged her from the room to do as he had commanded. Once both were out of the room, he walked over to the book and opened it, immediately going to the section on the Baratheon's.

Orys- black of hair and blue eyes. Rogar- black of hair and blue eyes. All the way down it went. Steffon- black of hair and blue eyes. Robert- black of hair and blue eyes. Stannis- black of hair and blue eyes. Renly- black of hair and blue eyes. Joffrey- gold of hair and green eyes. Myrcella- gold of hair and green eyes. Tommen- gold of hair and green eyes. He immediately shut it at this, bending over and breathing hard. There had never been a Baratheon who didn't have black hair and blue eyes. So why all of a sudden were there now three hundred years after the House was founded? It could only mean one thing, the children were not Robert's. But if they weren't his, then who? It hit him like a brick and he had to stop himself from vomiting at the thought. Cersei always talked about how she and Jaime were never to be apart as they were born together. Had been born with him clutching her foot. 

Bastards shouldn't fight with Prince's.

Those were words Jon had spoken in passing when they came to Winterfell. When Joffrey had embarrassed Robb and Theon. He had been at the opposite side of the balcony to him and Arya, but he'd heard his words. He almost laughed at the irony of it all, but panic was too large within him currently. And now Robert is away on a hunt meaning he can't tell him. This only meant one thing, Stannis knew. He had been with Jon Arryn in the days leading up to his death and he had fled when he had been proclaimed such by the Grand Maester. Clearly getting a step ahead in everything before he met the same end as his predecessor and foster father. This was why Stannis was pressing on his claim, why he had recruited the Velaryon's. He needs to send a raven, and now. 

He grabbed some parchment and wrote everything down, hastily stamping his own sigil to seal it. They knew he was going to send a letter to Catelyn and Robb anyway, so he had that going for him. But he had to draft one for the Blackfish as well. He'd met Brynden a few times, had liked the man well enough, but the feud between he and his brother was well known. The younger refusing to marry as he hoped to become a Kingsguard one day. Maybe- he shook his head at this, that was one step too many at the moment. He'll bring it up with Cat when he sees her next. And who knows when that will be. 

Jaeron XVI

It was a gruelling journey, that was something Jaeron agreed with Arthur on. Four days after Catelyn had left to head to White Harbour, the pair had saddled up with just enough money alongside a large tent in case they didn't pass by an inn. Fear was something he didn't experience often, but he was beginning to feel it more now that he was beginning to really adapt. Now, he couldn't learn and then press on his claim. All he could do now was learning as he pressed on the claim. Luckily, he had good people surrounding him who knew what they were talking about when it came to all of this.

It was only the two of them, Howland remaining behind as he was going to be acting as an envoy in his stead for when the Velaryon's arrive. A part of him had wanted to remain to meet with the other Valyrian family, but he couldn't put it off any more. He is going to need allies, and he needs them now. The Lord had one of the wargs residing in the castle to show them how to get to the Kingsroad. One of numerous commissioned at the behest of Jaehaerys I and his sister-wife Alysanne. Practically the only two who were spoken of fondly in the North for what they had done. Yet to think it was their grandchildren which almost ended their family and its legacy. 

If his calculations were correct, it would take them roughly three weeks to arrive in Starfall. Which is where they would be getting men and according to his single Kingsguard member- so he could breathe his own air again. It had made him snort a little, but he had managed to cover it up fairly well. They were moving now. 

His aunt on her way to the capital to speak to Varys and probably to Eddard as well, with Torghen following her disguised as a personal guard. Howland and Jyana remaining behind to convince Monford to join his cause and not Stannis'. Hopefully he wasn't too late with them, because they would be a fantastic asset. Torghen would be splitting from Catelyn at the capital to travel to Claw Isle to speak to Lord Ardrian Celtigar to see if he would join in. Then there was him and Arthur travelling to Dorne of all places. It was somewhere he had always wanted to visit, always finding the culture and outlook on life fascinating. It was also the only Kingdom in Westeros who treated bastards the same as trueborns. Perhaps he would've gone there had he not been told the truth? Although, he'd probably head towards the Wall.

His lips tightened in a thin line at the thought. Just before they had left he had sent a raven to Aemon to explain everything that was going on. But he couldn't get the thought of that thing attacking him. What if he hadn't grabbed Dark Sister? No one but Howland knew about what he had saw, and it was beginning to eat him up. So he had written in the raven directed at his uncle that if he heard anything he was to send response immediately. Arthur shot him a weird look as they finally came into sight of the famous road that went straight to Kings Landing from Castle Black, his pale brown hair that he had dyed only making his caramel coloured skin stand out more. Jaeron was no better, Jyana simply quirking an eyebrow at him before finally helping tame his raven curls and putting the same paste through it.

Most of it had grown back in, just considerably shorter than it had been before stepping into that fire and hatching Rhaegon and Lyrax. He felt terrible about leaving them behind, but he had no choice. They were still growing. Yes, they were growing abnormally quickly, but not to the size where they could be ridden yet. A thought coming to mind when Robb had asked him and he had stated something along the lines of being able to do so when their neck was the same size as the back of a horse. Now he knew that was nonsense. They would need to be a lot larger than that before he could mount one of them. 

301AC had finally arrived, and everything was going to change from now on. nothing was ever going to be the same again. Jon Snow was a thing of the past. He's a King without a castle, Kingdom, or people. But a King nonetheless. The pair followed the road all through the Riverlands, him taking in everything as they went. But it was when they passed the Inn at the Crossroads that it sunk in. This was where his mother had met with his father and they had ran off to the Isle of Faces to wed. Where it was rumoured that she had been taken against her will. It certainly didn't help that the man beside him had been there when it all happened, had witnessed the interactions. Despite wanting a warm bed to sleep in, he knew he couldn't spend a night here, so they had travelled well into the night.

By now, it had been ten days since they had left Greywater Watch, and they were perhaps halfway through with the journey. No one thought any differently of them, there was nothing to look at that was odd. Howland had his blacksmith make another hilt cover so he could take both his swords with him, and Arthur had the same one he'd had since he'd arrived to help him out. Of course, he couldn't take the blades out of their sheaths because Valyrian steel is incredibly valuable- considered priceless in a lot of places- but it brought some semblance of comfort to him. Especially now that he was playing another persona.

No, he wasn't Jon Snow. Nor was he Jaeron Targaryen. Now, he was Marlon Palloxan. Son of Leron Palloxan- a trader between the Free Cities of Essos and the port cities of Westeros. Playing so many parts was beginning to wear him down, but it was the only way to keep his identity hidden alongside his Kingsguard. And if anyone asked about their eyes- well, that was simple. Leron's mother had been a descendent of the disgraced Princess Saera Targaryen, and his mother had been a Lysene delight from when he had visited the island during one of his many trips. The blood of Valyria runs strong there, that was a fact everyone knew about. It wasn't uncommon to see people with purple eyes and silver hair, no matter how diluted the blood was. 

Once they reached the border of the Reach and Crownlands, they finally broke off from the Kingsroad and headed towards the Gold Road which went all the way to Lannisport before turning south down the Sea Road to Highgarden. Then from there, the Rose Road to Oldtown. They were heading for the port city where they would take a ship to head towards Starfall. Allyria had sent in a raven that there would be someone there to direct them, someone by the name of Alleras. It was an odd name, one he had never heard before. Then again, he was one to talk. He was literally the first of his name. There had never been a Targaryen nor a Celtigar nor a Velaryon with his name before. It must've been an uncommon one that was wiped out when the Doom occurred. Then again, the Doom still resided there, according to numerous Maester's. Hence why no one even dares to go near the peninsula where the capital of the Freehold had lay.

A part of him was excited about this, having never left the North before. Heck, before he was told he had never even left Winterfell. Yet here he is, travelling on horseback to the southernmost Kingdom. Arthur had been telling him as much as he could regarding the culture there, and to say Jaeron was surprised at the similarities was an understatement. Women could rule on their own- Barbrey Dustin and Maege Mormont were proof of that. Typically stay out of politics like his homeland did unless they had no other choice. Women were not looked down on if they learned to fight, something Arya would love. A part of him had considered sending her to foster somewhere in Dorne to help gain alliances, but this was something that couldn't be done yet. Who knows how long it will be before it all kicks off? 

It took them five days to reach Lannisport, the sheer size of the city blowing his mind. He'd heard from those around him in Winterfell that White Harbour had a population of just under twenty thousand, yet this city must've had multiple times this amount. And Oldtown and Kings Landing were even larger still. The latter apparently having a population nearing a million. That was more people than there was in the North as a whole. And to think that if he succeeds- he will be ruling from there. At this moment, it was simply a dream that was so far out that it had no real merit yet. That night, they chose to find an inn, getting one relatively close to the harbour where there was a street of vendors who also traded along the coast. From his window, he could see out amongst the mass of water, wondering what lay out there.

Obviously, there were the Iron Islands. Them apparently only being a few days by ship away from the coast- probably why this city was targeted so much alongside the Riverlands. And even further out there were three islands that were named after the conqueror and his sister wives. Or so reports say after Elissa Farman sold eggs she had stolen from Dragonstone to build a huge ship before disappearing from history. That was a scandal at the time, even more so as it was heavily rumoured that she and Rhaena had been more than simply good friends. There would be no proof of that however, it was well over two centuries ago now. 

When morning finally came, both swung onto their horses and made haste. The sooner they arrive in Starfall, the better it will be for them. By now, the heat was beginning to really affect Jaeron, not used to it at all. He'd gotten used to the warm temperature of the Neck since he had been there for months now, but that would be pleasantly cool in comparison to this. His clothes were sticking to him and his hair was sticking to his forehead. Some of the paste even wiping away and he was glad Jyana had been adamant he bring it with him to help conceal his identity. The less he looks like his parents, the better a chance there is of him not being outed. He needs to be the one to leak the information for it to have maximum impact, and that was something he was going to hold dear to himself no matter what. At least they have some leverage against Varys considering they know from Arya's accidental snooping that he is hiding someone as a Blackfyre. 

Who could it be though? Clearly it had to be someone who had Valyrian blood like he did. But there were thousands of people who did. It was just in Westeros it wasn't common. Plus, there are still the female Blackfyre line somewhere in Essos. Only the males were wiped out so the name couldn't be carried on. And they were kin to him, despite it being numerous generations back now. Aegon IV had been his ancestor just as much as he had been theirs. Lesser branches aren't uncommon, even the Karstark's were one. Plus there were other Arryn's and even other Lannister's around who were too far down the line to inherit anything that came with their name. 

If Lannisport had shocked him, Oldtown had taken his breath away when they finally arrived. All he could see was polished white marble and stone, reflecting the light from the sun and causing him to squint his eyes to really take it in. At a first glance, it appeared to be roughly the same size as the other city, but it was a distinct possibility that there were more people who lived here. Then there was the famous Hightower, currently ruled by Lord Leyton. Grandfather to Willas, Margaery, Garlan, and Loras Tyrell. There was no denying they would be very useful as allies, but he couldn't go there yet. The truth will need to be out before he officially takes on allies, all he can do is try to bring people in. Hopefully there will have been correspondence from Howland and Catelyn when he arrives with their endeavours. It was unlikely there would be one from Torghen considering the man is exiled. Jaeron had thought the Wall was an impressive height, but the Hightower was much larger. Apparently nearing eight hundred feet tall. They rode towards the coast once more and it didn't take too long before who could only be their guide came into view. 

"Marlon and Leron?"

Both nodded at this, and it took the younger a moment to catch on to what this meant. Clearly Allyria trusted this person, and clearly there had been some correspondence between the siblings if she knew the names they were using. A small eye twitch escaped him at that, but if Arthur spotted it, he didn't say anything on it nor give any indication he had seen. The man was quite short, and from the tone of his voice, Jaeron knew he was young. Probably a third or perhaps even a fourth son of a lesser Lord trying to make a name for themselves as they wouldn't inherit anything anyway. With short curly black hair much like his own, and large eyes that were such a deep shade of brown they appeared black. 

"Aye, Alleras. I believe my sister Arelia sent you to show us to our ship?"

Arelia? Clearly now they were going for names that were similar to their own. This only proving that Allyria was in on this mummery of theirs alongside the larger one of his existence. The man simply nodded before mounting his pale grey mare and directing them down a long winding road away from all the hustle and bustle of everything. Confusion sweeping in again at this, clearly wanting to keep hidden from everything. Why would they need to hide though? There wasn't a threat was there? Despite these thoughts, he kept his mouth closed, making a note to ask about that when it is safe for them to openly talk to one another without someone overhearing. It only felt like seconds had passed before they had arrived in a small harbour, probably one the locals used to fish considering the size of the ships. Some only looking like they would hold a handful of people at once. It was one of these they climbed on and an older male was already on board, Alleras leaving almost immediately. Once both horses were brought on board and they had drafted out to sea, Arthur turned to the man.

"It is good to see you again Orran, a few years since we last spoke I believe?"

Jaeron's eyes widened at this, wondering just what they were playing at now.

"Aye it has, Ser. At least we don't need to keep quiet on it for too much longer now."

Confusion was beginning to set in but the Knight caught on.

"Orran is Wylla's older brother, Jaeron. He's known the whole time, he is one of the few people in on it at Starfall."

Relief blossomed through him at this, the familiar name of the woman who had nursed him calming him massively. Tentatively, the older asked to take him in, having not seen him since he was a newborn in Eddard's arms. This was something he was not used to yet, having people really look at him in detail. That was something he would need to get used to because eventually he is going to be proclaimed King. And a King is looked at constantly. He needs to learn the art of subtlety, something Howland had been definitive with him over. He's mastered the basics, but weaving words was something else. Having to not actually say what you were meaning so as not to draw attention to oneself. Especially as he will be up against people who have had decades of experience on his few months. 

"I see what you mean, definitely got his father's face. Apart from the length of it, that definitely came from Lyanna. Your hair?"

"Black and curly."

He nodded at this before untethering the boat and soon they were off into the abyss. It wouldn't take them much longer to reach Starfall, it being on the western side of Dorne and relatively close to Oldtown. If his map studying was correct, they would be passing Three Towers and Sun House. The seats of House Costayne and House Cuy. He doubted he would be able to see the Arbor off the coast, where House Redwyne resided. Another strong ally that would come in incredibly useful to his cause. Five days of sailing around the coast had them finally sailing up the Bay which was directly outside of Starfall, the sand surrounding everything once again shocking him. He had only ever seen sand once, and it was only when Lord Eddard had the Manderly's send some for them to play with when they were all babes. Rickon hadn't even been born yet, and Bran was still crawling. He didn't get to play in it though, but he had watched as the others threw fistfuls of it at one another. Even Sansa had done so, one of the very rare times she didn't care about appearance and let herself be the child she was.

When Starfall finally came into view, his eyes widened. It was small in width, but the sheer height of it was what caught his attention. Of course, it was nowhere near the size of the Wall or the Hightower, but it was certainly over a couple of hundred feet in height. With multiple towers and a sand mountain to the side. Had that been the one Arthur and Ashara had been racing one another down on planks which led to him breaking his hand and therefore learning to use his left equally as well? They hadn't sparred or trained much on their journey, getting here being their main priority. Remaining idle is not doing anyone favours, and it would only make it harder for him further down the line. The timing of everything needs to be perfect now, not a moment before and not a moment after. 

"It's good to be home."

With that, the boat was brought in and Orran threw a rope tied with a specific knot so it didn't drift away, all jumping off not long after with the eldest saying he would deal with their horses. Both nodded before heading towards the castle, the deep red and cream bricks standing out massively against the pale brown sand. Arthur bent down to grab a handful of water and splashing it on his face, Jaeron doing the same. The cool water immediately refreshing him massively. How could anyone live in this heat? Then again, a lot of people would probably say that about the North and how cold it was so there wasn't much room to talk there. Three people were stood outside when they got to the door. One a young woman, probably in her mid twenties. She had long ebony coloured hair that shone in the light, with lightly tanned skin and sporting violet coloured eyes. Clearly this was Allyria. Beside her was a much older woman and despite never knowing what she looked like, he knew this had to be Wylla. The very woman who had given him suck from the very beginning. And the last was a young boy, younger than he was by a few years, with icy blonde hair and also sporting purple eyes. 

"Brother, it is good to see you. Please, come inside."

Jaeron watched as the young boy's eyes widened at Allyria's words, clearly unaware of who he was. Even more people playing off one another to remain a step ahead. This could only be Edric, the heir of Starfall. The one who had accepted to be Beric Dondarrion's squire recently. He was probably waiting on the man coming here and wouldn't be here for much longer. A possible gateway to getting one Stormland's House on his side. Not a definite, but a possibility. And at this moment, possibilities are endless. 

"It is good to see you as well, sister. It has only been nearing seventeen years since we saw one another last."

The young woman let out a small laugh before walking over to pull her older brother into a tight hug. They pulled away not long after before being let inside and brought to what had to be a meeting room.

"I was unaware you were alive, uncle."

There was the proof, this was Edric. It startled him a little that he didn't have ebony hair like his aunt and uncle did, clearly his mother had pale hair for him to look like this. But there was no denying the relation. All shared the same eye colour and had the exact same nose.

"I had to remain hidden, nephew. I wasn't going to bow at Robert Baratheon's feet. My King is beside me."

Now, Edric's eyes turned to Jaeron's. Silently asking for an explanation. However, Wylla beat him to this.

"Edric, we couldn't tell you due to how young you are as it could've been used against you. This young man standing in front of you is Jaeron Targaryen, Lyanna's Stark's legitimate son by Rhaegar Targaryen."

The youngest widened his eyes massively at this, not even hiding this as his head snapped around to look directly at him. This only made him considerably more uncomfortable than he already felt, but the sooner the truth was out to the Lord of the castle, the better. It doesn't matter how young he is, he is still the Lord.

"Now, introductions are not needed anymore. I think you two would like to get that paste out of your hair. I see you didn't bring any of your companions with you, Jaeron?"

He shook his head at this.

"Rhaegon and Lyrax are still growing. And Ghost is way too noticeable, he would stick out like a sore thumb. It's not a secret that we have direwolves."

Allyria nodded at his words, the smile she was wearing being very warming to him. 

"I wish we could start off with a good note, but we cannot. Ravens arrived, a few of them. Stamped with direwolves, fishes, a seahorse, and a lizard lion."

Just like that, his eyes opened a little more, nodding gently to see the scrolls in question. The seals had been broken which angered him a little, but he knew he could trust them with this knowledge. They've kept him a secret from the beginning, they easily could've outed him from the day he was brought here. He recognised the seals though. Stark, Tully, Reed, and Velaryon. He opened that one first and scanned over it, relief rushing through him like a wave breaking through a dam. Monford and Aurane knew now, and Aurane had agreed to remain behind to get the measure of him. That was how it was worded, but it was clear what it meant, agreeing to be a hostage as part of the agreement from the pact. Howland's one confirmed this was the case and that he was working on finding someone to foster with them to solidify it to make it be fair. 

He had fully expected for the one with the fish on it to have been from Catelyn, but he was left shocked that it wasn't. There were two scrolls inside, one from Robb confirming he had forwarded it on to him. What was so important that something was sent to him after being sent to the original recipient? But as his eyes glanced over the words, the panic began to seep in again. Arthur clearly spotted the troubled look on his face as he silently asked for an explanation. He ran a hand through his hair, pushing it out of his line of vision.

"Lysa Tully has seized Tyrion Lannister and has openly accused him of the murder of her husband."

"Please tell me you are kidding- "

Allyria simply sighed deeply at this, confirming it was not a joke of any kind. 

"Fucking idiot."

Normally, Jaeron would've snorted at his straight talk, but this wasn't something to laugh at under any circumstance. He placed the parchment down on the table before finally picking up the one with the Stark seal on it. Was this sent by Robb or by Eddard? This one also had a secondary seal inside it confirming it had been forwarded on to him as well, from Howland Reed, and from the writing he knew it was from Eddard. It looked like any normal letter at first but he knew the key to it. He walked over to a candle and held the parchment just in front, reading the words written in pale yellow ink. At first, it didn't sink in for him what it meant. But soon it all came crashing down on him, immediately walking over to the table with his face clearly ashen. 

"What is it, Jaeron?"

He gave them all a look at this before gulping loudly.

"My uncle has found out why Stannis fled the city and the truth Jon Arryn died for. Joffrey, Myrcella, and Tommen are not Robert's children. Cersei has been cuckolding him. He has no legitimate heirs meaning- "

"Stannis is his heir, and he is preparing to take over."


	21. XX

Catelyn II

The capital was exactly as she had remembered it. When she stepped off the ship in the harbour with the towering red form of the Red Keep above her, the air stinking of stale piss and shit and perfume from people walking around to disguise their noses from the stench. Catelyn made sure that her auburn hair was covered with her black scarf, tying it tightly underneath her neck so none would escape, the rest of it braided and tied in a neat bun at the nape of her neck. It had been a very long time since she had last set foot in King's Landing, but nothing had changed other than how incredibly busy it was.

To think three hundred years ago all there was to this place was a singular fortress made of wood and brick. That fortress had been Aegon I base alongside Dragonstone as he planned his conquest across the remaining Kingdom's. Now, where that stood was a giant castle he had commissioned but did not live to see completed, the work being finished by his second son Maegor to Visenya. There were so many secrets to the seat, and no one alive knew about them. The third King of all the Kingdom's killing everyone who had worked on the castle so its secrets would remain hidden. Yet her little girl had found one of its many secrets, and a small pit of pride entered her at this.

Arya had always been an inquisitive child. Wild, but definitely inquisitive. Both her and Bran knew Winterfell inside out. For all she knows, they had found a way to enter the collapsed parts of the crypts below the castle. Her girls and husband were literally a few metres from her currently, but she couldn't see them right now. She is here solely to seek out Varys and to find out his intentions. Nerves were eating her up inside, bringing all her political knowledge to the forefront. This was going to be nothing shy of difficult. If she speaks a single word wrong she may potentially be the catalyst for everything.

She kept her hood down as she walked, already knowing that the man would know she was here. Nothing went past him, ever. Well, apart from one time, but he knew about that now. It was borderline hilarious that Eddard had managed to fool the Spider with the truth. And would've continued to do so had Jon not blurted it out at Castle Black where a brother spent a night with a whore in Mole's Town who happened to be one of his birds. No word had been sent from Robb in regards to it, but he didn't have much say in that matter as much as it bothered her. The brother's fate was now solely up to Jeor Mormont and whoever else ran the shots there. Knowing their vows, he was probably executed. Although she doubted Jon thought about that part yet.

Aye, it was true he was learning quickly and was proving to be a capable player. But a capable player isn't going to win the game. Catelyn stopped at some stalls along the way to get some food into her, not wanting to chance getting some in an inn considering she was very recognisable. Tully colouring was rare outside of her family, and there was no doubting she would stick out like a sore thumb. With this thought, she pulled her scarf around her head more, using it both as a disguise and as a way to ward off the beating sun above her. Heat was nothing new to her considering the Riverland's usually had decent weather, but it was nothing in comparison to the Crownland's. Right now, Jon would be heading towards Starfall, probably well on his way to Lannisport by now. At least he'd be getting a couple of thousand men behind him there considering there were people there who were in on it.

This angered her slightly, that Ned had made them aware of the truth more than a decade before she had been told. But perhaps they already did as they were involved in it all. Ashara being one of Elia's Ladies in Waiting and Arthur being a part of the Kingsguard her own cousin was the Lord Commander of. Well, technically Oswell had been her mother's cousin, but she still considered him as such. He'd taken the position when she was still a little girl and didn't remember him much. But the few memories she held of him were pleasant. It ate away at her that it may have been Ned who struck the killing blow on him. If it were a simple fight then there was no doubt he would have stepped aside and let someone else take him down as their marriage did make him related to the Knight, but it wasn't a simple fight. 

It was a fight to the death, seven against three, where only three walked away alongside a baby that had been born minutes beforehand. A baby that was the epitome of rebellion. His parents being the ones who caused it all, and now said baby nearing his seventeenth name-day preparing to make his claim. Ned didn't speak much about what had happened that fateful day, but she knew enough of it to piece it together to gain an understanding. They were desperate, and when someone is desperate values get lost. But what's done is done, it was nearly two decades ago now. A time where the realm had relatively been at peace other than Balon Greyjoy deciding to pull a Harren Hoare. Well, if that ever happened again there was no doubting her nephew would pull an Aegon the conqueror on him. When she had received the raven confirming Rhaegon and Lyrax were a little larger than horses that was what she expected when he took her to see them on her second day in Greywater Watch. But what he had really meant was their bodies were that size. Taking in their long necks and tails, they were considerably larger. 

Perhaps within the year.

That was what he had said to her when she had asked him about the timing aspect of everything, and it was now into the year 301AC. It would be poetic if he came out victorious considering it would mark exactly three hundred years since the Targaryen's sailed from Dragonstone to settle on a patch of land that would eventually rise into the huge city she was currently in. Thoughts were whisked from her brain as she bit into her mutton pie which was spiced with paprika, parsley, cumin, and something else she couldn't put her finger on. A few people turned to her but she refused to look at them in fear of them recognising her. The only person who should be recognising her would be Varys. The Keep was nearby now and she allowed her face to be shown for a few seconds before looking to the ground again, knowing one of the man's little birds would be nearby. The city is crawling with them, as is most of the continent as a whole. It wouldn't be a surprise if there were some beyond the Wall that was how extensive the network was. 

Just like she suspected, she spotted a little boy 'drop' his bucket of apples before leaning down to pick them up and run down an alleyway. Clever, make it look like he was walking away in defeat of losing his precious fruit. Now, it was only a matter of time before he sent someone to summon her. Catelyn sat down on a bench just beside one of the walls surrounding the city, with the red castle towering ominously high above her. By now, she had finished her pie, quickly wiping away any juices that were sitting on her lips and took in everything around her. It was so boxed in, almost feeling like it were a cell. One with an open top with plenty of things to do, but a cell nonetheless. Something all the southern cities had in common. Even Lannisport had walls on the western border but that could possibly be as a defence mechanism against the Ironborn. The same could be said for Oldtown to an extent although they rarely went so far south. 

But even Gulltown was the same. Yes, it had a population only a little higher than White Harbour did, but due to its proximity to Essos it's commonly seen as one of the main port cities in Westeros. What did they need walls to defend from? From those fighting over the disputed lands between Myr, Tyrosh, and Lys? Possible, but not likely. She had been lost in her thoughts for a while and when she looked to her clasped hands she spotted a delicately folded piece of parchment that had not been there before. Carefully, she opened it, taking note of there being no sigil on the seal other than a simple circle, and read over it. A small smile tugging at the corner of her cherry red lips that it had worked. Now, she had to wait for people to be distracted before heading in the directions that were scribbled on it. 

Catelyn did not know the capital well, but the diagram seemed simple enough to follow. The moment the woman sitting at the bench in front of her turned away to speak to someone walking by, she seized her chance. Tugging the scarf around her head and tucking a piece of auburn hair that had fallen from her bun inside to keep on the low. It was obvious the area she was being directed to was that inhabited by the very wealthy of the city, possibly those who had high positions in the castle or were some of the most ludicrous traders. Buildings spanning four floors high with balconies overlooking everything down below. Doors inlaid with gold and too many gemstones for her to name or count. The finer things in life were not new to her, her House probably had more gold than the whole street combined, but it set dread a little in her.

The scribbled directions detailed to look for a house that had a small Sept attached to it, a stable to the side which housed the finest horse breeds from Vaes Dothrak when whoever owned the place had traded there. Dothraki did not agree with money, but instead with gifts. And the only thing they could gift in bountiful amounts were horses and gold. She'd been walking for perhaps ten minutes when she noticed the bright white of the Sept with seven columns surrounding it. Only standing around fifty feet but clearly being modelled off the Great Sept that had been built atop Visenya's hill at the opposite side of the city. There was a small alleyway and she quickly turned down it, making sure nobody was watching her. From here she was told there would be an old door where there was an abandoned room that had apparently been used to hide stowaways during the numerous civil wars that had occurred throughout the years. 

Once she had found it, she walked inside and closed it behind her. Inside, it looked and felt more like a cell than the city itself. A staircase to the side which had torches aligning it, confirming this was where she was to go. Nerves were eating her up inside as she done so, thinking this was a trap of some kind, silently cursing herself for agreeing to this. But it had to be her, anyone else would've been far too obvious. There was an abrupt turn at the end which took her off guard but the room she walked into almost caused her jaw to drop. Surrounding her, were dozens of dragon skulls. And there standing in the centre of them all, was the Spider. Wearing his characteristic robes made from Myrish silk, this time in a pale lavender colour. His hands and face powdered to a point he looked like a corpse. His hair shaved completely like usual, and with pink silken shoes that made no sound whatsoever when he moved. 

"Magnificent, aren't they? They're king Robert's most prized possession. Ironic isn't it?"

She wasn't going to give him the satisfaction of agreeing with said statement. But it couldn't be denied. It was ironic that the one thing that made the Targaryen's great were the prized possession of the man who was at the forefront of said family's downfall. Catelyn did not trust him in the slightest, him making her feel like she had gnats crawling all over her. That was a feeling she knew well, the Riverland's were crawling with the creatures. It was rare to go out for a walk for longer than ten minutes without feeling like one was being eaten alive by them. 

"And your nephew has two, I believe? Rhaegon and Lyrax, correct?"

By now, she was stood beside him, staring at them with terrified wonder coating her features. She'd thought Jon's were large, but they were babies in comparison with some of these. 

"Not much of a talker are we, Catelyn Tully Stark?"

Her lips tightened at this, understanding he was trying to get a reaction out of her. Nose wrinkling a little at the sickly sweet scent coating the man beside her, very much like she had stuck her head into a vat filled with freshly made caramel. 

"What do you plan to do with the information, my Lord?"

"Ah, there's that sharp Tully tongue I know. It all depends on this conversation. We are a few minutes away from the castle if you know where to go, I'm sure the Queen would take massive delight in taking you hostage so her father can get here from Casterly Rock."

She always knew this man was a master at subtleties, and the fact his threat was not veiled there confirmed he was trying to tell her something. His words span in her head for a little before figuring out he did not mention the King.

"And King Robert wouldn't?"

"I'm afraid the king has gone on a hunting trip and has left your husband to stand in as an unofficial regent until he returns. The Queen was furious by this, even more so because in her eyes it insults her family. She is her father's daughter after all."

At these words, her eyes closed as she let out a frustrated sigh. That she was unaware of, and she knew Ned would be struggling. He was able to handle the North well but handling the entirety of Westeros? 

"Alas, it won't be long before the King returns, I suspect it will be within the month. It takes a few days to ride to the Kingswood anyway, even more so for him as his horse can barely handle him. If track records go, he will not call an end to the hunt until he had gotten at least ten bucks, twice as many boar, and three times as many pheasants. He'll use the game for his next grand feast that will be held to honour his daughter's tenth name-day no doubt."

This calmed her down somewhat, but it did little to answer her question. He was dancing around it like a dancer avoiding a floor covered with sharpened knives stood upright. And an idea came to her mind, tell a part of the truth.

"Rhaegon and Lyrax are roughly twice the size of war horses, they were barely the size of newborn kittens when they hatched. I knew there was a chance for them to do so, but I didn't expect for it to happen, nor did Jon."

It had the desired effect as she spotted the single moment of alarm in his eyes. Clearly shocked they were already as large as they were. Probably expecting them to be much smaller. However, it was only there for a split second before returning to cold and emotionless like before. Be clever Cat, she did not spend so much time with her uncle before his infamous fight with his father for nothing. 

"You know, they say every time a Targaryen is born- "

"The Gods toss a coin and see if it lands on madness or greatness. I am aware of the saying, my Lord."

A tiny laugh left the man at this, clearly amused by something. But what she couldn't say. 

"Why did you not tell the King and Queen? Considering you found out the truth months ago?"

"I do not serve any King or Queen, my Lady. I serve the realm, the people, and those trodden on by the High Lords for their own selfish needs. If I told them then the crown proclaims war on the North. Through your marriage the Riverland's will stand with the North and proclaim war right back. As an accomplice would say, chaos is a ladder."

At these words, she felt a chill run through her like no other. And it wasn't the words that did it, it was the truth of the words that did it. If there is so much going on, focus is lost on numerous things, anyone can take said mantles onto their own shoulders. Eventually getting to a point where to an extent they are considered a High Lord themselves. Then on and on the cycle goes. 

"Also, with what your sister has recently done and with Stannis fleeing the city, I'd imagine things will happen soon that will be unprecedented."

Confusion wracked through her at this, what had her sister done? She hadn't heard anything about her since that letter arrived pinning Tywin Lannister buying Tears of Lys. 

"I'm guessing you haven't heard yet? I would've been surprised if you had honestly. Your sister sent ravens to all the Lord Paramount's alongside the Crown stating that she was getting justice for her husbands murder. The imp decided to travel to the Vale for some reason I'm unaware of and she sent men to seize him. As we speak, he is being held in one of the famous sky cells of the Eyrie."

Now, she took a few steps back, horror written all over her face. Not even attempting to hide her emotions currently. What in seven hells were you doing Lysa? Her sister had always been impulsive and did what she wanted without thinking of the consequences. Remembering a time her father had brought rock candy from one of his trips once. There wasn't much of it, enough for a handful each as it wasn't a common sweet, and Lysa had taken hers. Being eleven name-days herself at the time, she had stomped into her sisters room and demanded she give it back. And instead of owning up to it she had gone running to her father claiming that she had stolen hers and not the other way around which led to her getting a bruise across her backside. She hadn't spoken to her for days afterwards. When Hoster had overheard Lysa talking about it to herself, he'd taken numerous things off her which had her shrieking so loud she could hear it from the opposite end of the corridor. The next time her father had gotten some of the treat, he had made sure to not give any to her younger sister which only angered her more. 

"Your father is expected to make a response soon in relation to the allegation, but it has not been sent yet. If I were you, Lady Stark, I'd get on the fastest ship possible to Gulltown and ride fast for the Eyrie."

With these words, he turned around to the bend which led to the room above. She followed close behind him, not wanting to get lost in these tunnels as she doubted she would find a way out. Her dress was covered in dust at the bottom, but right now she did not care about that. Her heart was beating so hard in her chest it felt like it was going to burst out of her skin any moment now. If letters had been sent to all the Lord Paramount's, it probably meant that Robb was considering calling the banners, something he could not do just now. It was far too early. Once they were out in the open, words came to her mind and before she could stop herself, she spoke.

"Fires burn red, that is true. However, they also burn black. Red can be black, and black can be red."

She wasn't going to show her satisfaction at seeing the incredibly uncomfortable look on the Eunuch's face at these words, clearly understanding what she meant. This meant that Ned had not cornered him yet with the knowledge, which gives them wiggle room. He knew she was supporting her nephew taking the throne, and he now knew that they knew he was hiding a boy as a Blackfyre. Or perhaps he was a Blackfyre descendent, not a theory that could be ruled out as it was only the male line that was exterminated. Hopefully Jon does well in Dorne and Howland was able to bring over the Velaryon's. The latter was the most likely considering their shared kinship, but not a definite. It wouldn't surprise her if Monford suggested a betrothal between Monterys and Arya. They were of a similar age after all. 

Catelyn had wanted to see Ned during her visit, but with what she had just been told she knew she had to move quickly. The pieces were moving, and she was not going to let herself be an unforgettable pawn. She is a Tully by birth and a Stark by marriage. The docks soon came into view and she paid her fare to get on to the one headed for Seaguard via Gulltown. A smaller ship, one that could easily wind through the river from the eastern city to the western Seat of the Mallister's. She could get off halfway and ride west where if her calculations were correct, she would be met with her father's men on the road to the Eyrie. 

Jaeron XVII

Dorne was both everything and nothing like he had imagined it would be. He'd grown up hearing of their culture and how they were incredibly similar to the North in this aspect. Of how all had olive coloured skin and dark eyes and dark hair. How they were fiercely proud of their roots and incredibly loyal. With hundreds of buildings built up from sandstone that had been delicately carved hundreds and possibly thousands of years before. It was common knowledge that Dorne really came onto the map when Queen Nymeria of the Rhoyne settled here with her ten thousand people escaping from the Valyrian's of old. 

Jaeron was proud to call himself part-Valyrian, but there were some aspects of it that left little to desire. Slavery for one- something he completely disagreed with. Of how forty families decided they wanted all the wealth for themselves and decided how it was only them who could bond with a dragon and no one else. That they decided to be selfish about it by practising incest for thousands of years. Plus, they were a violent lot of what is written in history is to be believed. But they had taken over a huge portion of Essos and even Dragonstone so far west. If the Doom hadn't occurred, there was a very high chance that Westeros would've been added to the empire of the Freehold.

Alas, the mages eventually lost control over the fourteen flames which started the cataclysmic event which ended the dynasty. Where only a handful of families made it out alive. Some had tried to go back assuming they could rebuild but were never seen again. Some disappeared to Sothoryos. Now, there were only three families left that were known to have been descended from them. Aye, there were people who had Valyrian blood but from escaped slaves or lesser Houses, then there were the tens of thousands of bastards that had been produced throughout their reign of conquest. He doesn't want to be like that, doesn't want to be a conqueror. Hell, he doesn't even want to be a ruler, but that is the path he's heading for and he has to accept it sooner rather than later. 

He had been here for a few days now, trying to think of a way to stop the shitstorm that is coming whilst also remaining under the radar. Deep down, he knew he was going to need to come forward soon, but the timing did not seem right just now. Especially because he only has two Kingdom's to his back and one lesser House. It's certainly doable with what is happening, but not a certainty either. Moving so quickly was odd to him, having remained idle for what felt like years. And to think in a measly six weeks it will mark exactly a year since he was told the truth. It did not seem like that at all, feeling like it had both been yesterday and a lifetime ago. He's fully accepted it now, but doubt was always going to cloud his mind no matter what. 

At least he didn't need to hide it here. A dozen people in Starfall had been entrusted with the information. Allyria was lovely, her nature very much reminding him of Sansa, however she had the tongue of Arya. He missed them, massively so. And to think they were only a fortnight away from them by ship only increased this. Apparently from Eddard's letters, Sansa was beginning to open up to him, but had not switched yet like the others had. He knew Catelyn was supporting him, and Robb had all but bent the knee to him already. Something he was startled with at first as at the time, he was still coming to terms with everything. Yet seemingly as soon as he had done so, it had all kicked off.

First, there was the pact which completely and irrevocably rips the continent in half- literally. The north is the same size as the other Kingdom's combined. Then there was Varys knowing about him, Arya unintentionally snooping and finding out there was someone pretending to be a Blackfyre and had recruited the Golden Company through this. Then there was his aunt roaming through the Dothraki Sea somewhere. Then there was the news of the Prince's and Princess. And to top it off with a cherry Lysa had taken Tyrion. Catelyn had been uncertain about getting the Vale through her, but this single act made it blatantly obvious he was not getting the Arryn's on his side. There is a possibility for the Royce's considering they do have a weak kinship from a marriage long ago, and they did originate from the First Men much like he did. Out of all the southern Houses, the Royce's and Blackwood's were always said to be the most northern. The same as the Manderly's were always seen as southerners despite having lived in the North for hundreds of years.

"Your Grace?"

Jaeron snapped his head up at this to be met with Edric. The Lord of Starfall was very young and technically had to have a regent for a further three years before he took over as the official Lord. Despite this, over the last few days he had proven to be rather intelligent. Those two words didn't seem right to him, but Arthur had began to drum it into him that if he's going to go for it then he needs to act like it and not like an indecisive little boy. The honourifics was only ever used amongst those who were in on it, but it didn't ease his hesitance over the title. 

"Yes, my Lord?"

The young boy looked to the ground for a split second before looking him directly in the eye. Purple meeting purple. It had been explained to him that it was through Dyanna's parents which solidified the gene with them. The Dayne's hadn't always had purple eyes, but when those two had wed, it carried on. Two sides of the family having the characteristic. It was interesting getting to know their history, even more so as Dyanna had been Aemon's mother. They were kin to one another. Granted, it was six generations back, but kin nonetheless. 

"My uncle has requested to speak to you, as has my aunt. They've got a suggestion for the agreement with the Velaryon's."

His eyebrows raised marginally at this, only noticeable if someone had been looking for it, before nodding gently. Giving him permission to allow them inside. It was a little amusing to him, to see a boy of thirteen boss around the Sword of the Morning like he were the disobedient child, and he knew he was going to use this to jape with him in the future to ease the tension that comes with planning a war. Soon, both walked inside and sat down in front of him. Allyria had arranged a room which had a study attached to it so he could be left to his own devices. 

"We have a suggestion for the hostage swap. Aurane has agreed to it on our end, but one for them to solidify it is still needed."

It was Allyria who spoke, her words clipped and straight to the point. Despite how soft her voice was, her nature was the opposite. A fierce woman indeed. Jaeron nodded at her, giving her silent permission to speak on her suggestion. They'd been discussing it for weeks and had yet to come up with one that was plausible, and he couldn't deny he was a little relieved that they had figured someone out.

"Theon Greyjoy."

Just like that, he leaned back in surprise and his lips tightened at the name. The heir of the Iron Islands a hostage with the Velaryon's? What benefit would that give? His confusion must've been obvious as Arthur snorted a little his way. At this, he made sure to wipe his face clean of emotion as he looked at them both expectantly. 

"Theon is already a hostage to the Stark's. Passing around hostages is a common technique to gain allies. If you send him there, this will force Balon to at the least remain neutral- best case to join with us. Unlikely, but still the possibility is there. This would then keep one Kingdom at bay which then leaves you with the other eight. Two of which are immediately going to follow you, which leaves six. By sending him to Driftmark where said House that resides there has an excellent fleet, it works both ways. He could get some information on them to help with his own House, you solidify the terms of the pact, and technically you wouldn't be going against Robert Baratheon's orders."

His words span around in his head for a few minutes, understanding dawning on him. This made a lot of sense, but it then meant they'll need to bring him into it somewhat. And due to their proximity to the capital, that could be catastrophic.

"If we did then we would need to at least bring him in to a part of it. Can I really trust a hostage being passed around who is such a prized possession to his own House? He's the only male heir of the Greyjoy line. All his brothers were killed in his father's stupid rebellion."

"You don't need to tell him anything. White lies come in handy from time to time, this being one of them."

He turned to Allyria once more, the calm expression on her face immediately calming him down. Jaeron knew he was getting worked up but it was difficult to contain it. Something he was still working on. He placed his elbows on the desk and leaned forward just slightly to show his interest.

"You're bringing the Velaryon's into it on a 'trade agreement' officially. When such agreements go ahead, someone is always sent to oversee it. Sending him to do so makes it look as though Robb trusts him enough, which will further placate his father. It would also placate him as it would make him think he's better than a hostage. Plus, you did say in passing a couple of days prior the man is good with his numbers. This would help massively with the logistical side of the agreement. He'd be a swapped hostage without ever knowing it."

Jaeron could've kissed her at that, but he wasn't going to do so. Arthur had stated that even though the Dornish usually kept out of the politics of the other Kingdom's, they were a knowledgeable bunch. And this just proved it. And they were correct with it not looking suspicious to Robert Baratheon as there was nothing in the agreement that he would be a hostage only for the Stark's. Someone that valuable could be used.

"I shall mull it over and send a raven to my cousin by nightfall. Thank you for your suggestion. Ser, could you stay behind please?"

Allyria understood the dismissal and left the room, leaving them alone.

"Did she think of that herself?"

"Mostly. A lot of people look down on her due to us being a smaller House and especially her being female. Not to mention her being the youngest out of us all. Being an underdog has its benefits. Now, what would you like to discuss?"

Jaeron allowed a small nod of appreciation to overcome him, making sure to remember that. It was true, there was no denying that. He's potentially the biggest underdog in the game currently, and that's only with a couple of dozen in on it. His siblings, Catelyn, Eddard, Maester Luwin, the Reed's, the Velaryon's, those in the Night's Watch, the Dayne's, and then Varys. So far it's knowledge, but contained knowledge. It's when the canister finally opens that it will be a shitstorm. 

"I've been thinking hard on the repercussions of Lysa taking Tyrion and what this means for us in a political manner."

Arthur sat back at this, his eyebrows furrowing ever so slightly as a small gesture to continue. Clearly wanting to challenge him.

"If I do go ahead with trying to bring them into it, this openly shows support for the North alongside the Vale with the other Kingdom's. The Westerland's especially. Aye, said Kingdom is blocked off by the Riverland's, but there are ports between all as they are coastal. We cannot risk going into rebellion right now, it's way too soon. However, if we don't join in, it looks bad because she is kin to us through my aunt and uncle's marriage. This gives us the option of neutrality as our best bet, which may make it harder down the line when I do make the claim. It will look like I used it to my advantage and possibly look like it was staged for me to gain an upper hand. I cannot risk something like that when Tywin Lannister is alive. Winterfell cannot be a repeat of Castamere."

The younger took a deep breath before glancing to his notes for a split second before continuing.

"The ravens arrived a fortnight ago, so I'd imagine people are aware of what she has done. Aye, Tyrion is a dwarf, but he is a Lannister. That name commands a lot of fear and respect. It will show the royal family is weak which puts the Crownland's and Westerland's against the Vale, possibly the Stormland's too due to Cersei and Robert's marriage. We need to find a way for her to release Tyrion, but this will prove tricky. She's done it because she's convinced his family killed her husband. That's why my uncle accepted the Hand position, so he could find more out. It's clear the man died because he found out about the Prince's and Princess, but it isn't clear on who done it exactly. As far as I'm aware, the only evidence there is to the accusation is that Tywin was spotted buying Tears of Lys- "

"That's a load of bullshit. That man is callous but he's anything but careless. He gets other people to do his dirty work for him."

Deep down, a part of him had thought this for a long time too. He just never voiced it openly. It seemed suspicious, too suspicious. 

"We need to know what evidence she has. The one piece that's been released just does not add up. However, I've possibly figured something else out. I told you about how I'd saw a hand when Bran fell from that tower, didn't I?"

The older nodded, silently asking for a further explanation.

"When my aunt went to investigate the scene, she found a clump of curly blonde hair. No one in Winterfell has that type of hair which logically meant it was someone in the King's party. But most of them went off on the hunt or were whoring and drinking in Wintertown. But there was one person I know for certain did not do either of these and hadn't been seen. Queen Cersei, and Ser Jaime hadn't been seen either."

The evidence was strictly circumstantial at the moment, but it fit too perfectly into the timeline. Neither of the pair had been seen, and both had curly blonde hair unlike their younger brother. Then an assassin sent after Bran... He must've saw them coupling. The thought almost made him vomit on the spot, but he managed to contain it. He has no right to complain about said pairings considering a lot of his ancestors were brother-sister marriages. 

"You think he saw them together, then tried to kill him to silence him, and when it failed sent an assassin after him."

The stunned tone in Arthur's voice was enough to put it into perspective for him. 

"Aye, I do. I've no proof of it of course, but it fits too well. I'm not going to go around screaming it from the rooftops or anything. This combined with everything else going on means I need to do something else. Make a big move."

A glint appeared in the Knight's eyes at this as he leaned forward intently. Jaeron licked his lips before leaning forward as well, trying his best to hide his hammering heart over what he was about to say.

"How long does it take to get to Sunspear by ship from Starfall, Ser?"


	22. XXI

Robb V

Stress was nothing new to Robb as of late. But over the last few weeks it had gotten to a point it was ridiculous. It was already difficult enough having to run a Kingdom in his father's stead being only sixteen name-days. But now there was looking after both Bran and Rickon, alongside everything beginning to kick off. It had been approximately six weeks since his mother had left to go to Kings Landing and he'd heard nothing from her yet, and he probably wouldn't until she was back in Winterfell. At least that would be any day now as it only took a fortnight by ship to get to the capital plus the nine days it took to ride to and from White Harbour and here. 

Did she knew what Lysa had done? A part of him hoped she had found out as it would be one less headache on him when she finally makes her way back here. When he had received the raven, he had been nothing short of horrified but he refused to show it as he was in a meeting with three others to begin preparations for the incoming winter. It had been years since the last one, Arya hadn't even been conceived yet when it ended, but he remembered it well. A cold so sharp that it physically burned the skin was not a pleasant thing to experience. And the North was a harsh place, it always had been. It was only the more southern parts that had any chance of growing things and even then they were limited. Aye, a lot of the keeps have glass gardens to keep their stocks up, but this was personal storage and not storage for the entire Kingdom. 

Just shy of a million people live here, even with rations they would need ten times this amount in basic food supply such as grain and corn. From his last calculation, they had six million. A decent start, but not enough for the long run. The more they have, the better a chance he has at leading his people through the harshest season there was. No, it hadn't even been proclaimed autumn yet, but Maester Luwin had always said that a long summer equates to a long winter. And this had been the longest summer on record for hundreds of years, which in turn meant an equally brutal winter. By now, the letter he had sent to Starfall will have been received by Jon, having received communication from him before he left he was heading there to officially begin gaining allies.

No response had come from him regarding the news yet but knowing his brother he was now going into panic mode. This would only be amplified from what Ned had sent them, that he'd figured out that Jon Arryn had been killed because he discovered that Cersei had been cuckolding King Robert. When that had arrived, Stannis' actions finally made sense, clearly preparing to get allies under his belt as well. This ebbed deep inside of Robb. He'd heard numerous stories about the middle Baratheon brother, and he knew he was not a man to be trifled with. His father spoke kindly of him, but it was clear they never got along, and it was made abundantly clear that he hated his older brother. 

Truthfully, a part of him did not blame him for that. Many people would take it as a massive slight if their older sibling granted the youngest sibling the Lordship of their ancestral seat. And Robert had done just that by granting Storm's End to Renly and Dragonstone to Stannis. It was a dumb political move to make, but it wasn't questioned as nothing had come from it yet, but that would be changing once the truth finally comes out regarding the Prince's and Princess, alongside Jon. Out of all participants, his brother has the best chance considering the sheer link his blood was. A Targaryen/Stark match was desirable, one that would've happened a long time ago and was rumoured to have happened between Cregan's bastard sister and Jacaerys during it all. 

Principality.

It was strange to think of himself as a Prince, and realisation kicked in on why Jon had freaked out like he had when he was told. He'd been one his entire life much like the younger and had also been completely unaware of it until Luwin presented him the scroll written in High Valyrian. The weight from it all was beginning to crush him, and he knew he was beginning to crack. And crack was something he could not do as that would kick start everything. There's no denying it now, peace was coming to an end and soon it was going to be pandemonium. Nothing short of a blood bath. House against House, Kingdom against Kingdom, possibly family against family. Most Houses are related to one another in some roundabout way. Robb was going to need to do something, and the only thing he could think of was try and arrange a betrothal for oneself to get allies behind them for when the time comes. With Sansa still betrothed to Joffrey Baratheon- well, Joffrey Waters now- she was out of the picture. And there was no way Arya was going to settle for being tied down with someone, she'd never even look at him again if he even attempted with her. Jon wasn't out yet and even when he is he will need whoever is the most advantageous. A King marrying someone from a lesser House would not bode well at all. This left only the youngest two and himself.

It would be difficult to find someone for Bran considering he could no longer walk and had to be carried everywhere. But their name was wanted, a House that dated back to the Age of Heroes. Had held the North for thousands of years. Second sons typically are expected to wed a lesser House from another Kingdom, and third or fourth sons expected to wed someone of their own Kingdom. Rickon it would be relatively simple to find someone. With the thought in mind, he slid out a few sheets of parchment that Eddard had which detailed every birth there was to the Houses of the North, trying to find someone suitable for him. Just as he did so, a gentle knock on the door sounded, Luwin asking if it was okay for him to enter. Robb gave the elderly man permission and soon he was sat in the chair facing him, eyeing the paperwork he had on the desk. 

"I'm trying to work out betrothals for myself and my brothers for when the time comes."

He simply nodded at the young man in front of him before sliding a letter over to him. He checked the seal and his heart leapt a little at the red three-headed dragon stamp, knowing it had come from Jon. The seal had already been broken meaning Luwin already knew the contents, but he opened it and began to read anyway. As he did, he realised with a start at just how adept the younger male had gotten at politics. Not as sharp as he would need to be, but the change was drastic. Confirming that there were a dozen people in on it at Starfall and that he had a Kingsguard member already. His mother had sent a raven to him just before she left Greywater Watch for White Harbour confirming this but he did not say who it was. Only that he'd had them for a while. 

It caused his lip to curl in a little bit, angry that his cousin was not being wholly honest with him. Obviously, Robb knew it would be stupid for him to tell him everything but from a family standpoint it stung deeply. Clearly if his mother approved of whoever it was then they were business. The next paragraph detailed that the young Lord of Starfall knew about him who was going to be travelling to the Stormland's soon to be a squire to Lord Beric Dondarrion of Blackhaven in the Dornish Marches. A potential link to getting them and that he was going to try and get the Selmy's on his side. Barristan would be difficult considering he was sworn to Robert, but he remembered the look on the Knight's face when he spoke about Jon. It was common knowledge the man saw Rhaegar like a son, and if he found out Jon was Rhaegar's son, it may be the weapon needed to break free from the Lannister's and Baratheon's. It was his grandnephew Arstan that would be tricky. The current Lord of Harvest Hall wasn't known to have any heirs yet despite being near his fortieth name-day. If it collapsed under them, it would be another House gone and being nothing but whispers in the wind. 

Shaking his head, Robb continued to the next portion, this filling him with hope and a wolfish grin to appear on his face. They'd fulfilled the Velaryon's side of the pact by having Aurane being their hostage and the man was currently in Greywater Watch. Apparently waiting for the opposite side to be fulfilled before travelling to Winterfell. And Jon had thought of that as he detailed who it should be and how it would be beneficial. As much as he wanted to deny it, the reasoning was sound, and it would put them in a semi decent light to Balon. He'd always been close with Theon despite him being five name-days older than the Lord of Winterfell, but Jon hated him. The eldest had always made it abundantly clear he saw him as lower than him and he always taunted him that he'd never go with them on their numerous visits to the Wintertown brothel. 

Robb wasn't stupid, he knew people were aware he did so, but he hadn't paid any visit since his father had left. All his time went on keeping the North together whilst helping Jon plan a takeover. However, it was the last portion that caused him to choke a little on his ale. Eyes widening as he stared at Luwin in front of him.

"Sunspear?! He's seriously going to the Martell's?!"

Luwin sighed lightly at this before looking to his clasped hands, heavy chain sat atop the wooden desk so it would not harm his brittle bones. 

"Clearly he's got a plan forming, although I know nought regarding the details, my Lord."

Surprise was still prevalent in the younger. He remembered speaking with Jon so many months ago and that he was going to try and get the Martell's, the exact same morning the damned eggs hatched to reveal Rhaegon and Lyrax. But he didn't expect him to go for it. He's walking a fine line, an extremely fine line. Yes, they knew that Lyanna and Rhaegar had been wed, but Elia had still been set aside. Granted, it was of her own accord and they'd set up a decree so Aegon would remain first in line, but it would be a sour taste to them no matter what. He rested his hand under his chin and pulled a little at the hairs that were beginning to grow there, an even deeper auburn than his hair was. 

"So, he's asked us to send Theon to Monford as a disguised hostage without him knowing, we're to expect Aurane Waters to come to Winterfell after meeting Jon, and he's going to Sunspear to speak to Prince Doran."

"You can refuse, my Prince- "

Robb shot him a look at this. He knew it was an automatic saying and wasn't meant, but it did hurt to hear.

"I cannot, Maester. Even though it's not out yet, Jaeron is my King. I cannot refuse him. Hell, it's because of his parent's marriage that I'm a Prince, that's a big debt to be paid. I will be bending the knee to him when he officially makes the claim which will tie the Kingdom's together again somewhat as they will be ripped apart by everything."

Silence overcame them at this, letting everything sink in. After a few minutes, Robb stood up and made his way outside, turning towards the living quarters to speak to Theon. The man was currently nursing a hangover so he would be in bed, probably with the curtains closed to give him more room to recover. When he knocked on the door he got no response. Knocking harder had the older groaning aloud confirming he was inside. With that, he walked into the room and shut the door behind him. Jon had detailed exactly how to word this, but lying was never a strong suit of Robb's, especially to people he knew well. It was something he thought he shared with his father but just under a year ago that all changed as he realised his father could lie, and very well at that. 

"Robb, it's not even dawn- "

"Aye it is, idiot. Midday meal has already been served. I want you in my solar in twenty minutes, we have to discuss something."

Theon promptly rolled over on his side and covered his eyes with his pillow, clearly trying to ward off the light streaming in, but the Prince wasn't allowing it. Robb strode over to the curtains and pulled them apart, glad that Theon's bed was in line with the window so the sun immediately landed on him and defeating his attempts.

"That wasn't a request Theon, that was an order."

He left the room at this, heading back into his solar and asking Luwin to make up a quick herbal mix to help Theon with his hangover. He knew from experience the man was stubborn and argumentative. It was common with people who came from the Iron Islands. His father had tried his best to have him feel at home here despite being a hostage, but Theon never acclimated to the North well. He poured some more ale for himself before throwing the parchment into the flames so no one could see what was on there. It had not been written in lemon water like most others were because Luwin knew, there was nothing to be hid there. The man was loyal to them and was sworn to help inhabitants of the castle. It appeared only seconds had passed before Theon walked inside, with a small glass filled with a pale orange liquid in his hand. The stuff had a horrific taste but he knew from experience just how much it helped. 

"What pleasure do I owe you, my Lord?"

The sarcasm in his tone was obvious, but Robb knew it was joking sarcasm from spending so much time with him. He'd been in Winterfell longer than a decade now, and they had spent much of it joined at the hip. 

"As you already know, Lord Reed has bartered a trade agreement with the Velaryon's of Driftmark with lizard lion skin. Men are expected to arrive here within a few days to run it all past me so I can authorise said deal. However, someone needs to go from Winterfell to oversee everything and ensure no one is exploiting nor using it to their own advantage. Normally, I would go to do so but I need to remain to keep Winterfell and the North running. My mother is not yet back from her visit to Kings Landing to try and find out more information to who that dagger belonged to, and for all I know Jon is dead. You're the only other person I trust to do this."

It went deathly quiet for a few moments before Theon's face contorted in anger.

"You're sending me away?! After all we've been through?"

"Only for a short time. You can return to Winterfell any time you wish."

Internally, he was biting the inside of his cheeks hard. To the point he could taste the metallic tang of fresh blood. It had been worded so that he would not be a hostage despite Robb knowing better, but it still didn't sit right with the heir of the Iron Islands. This was a lot harder than he thought, and he hoped sweat beads weren't going to run down his forehead at any point. The older knew when he was lying, and that only set him more on edge than he already was regarding these discussions.

"I need to send someone I trust, Theon. I've explained why I cannot go, and much of the household guard went with my father to Kings Landing. I considered sending Bran but Maester Luwin wants him to remain here. You're like a brother to me, and like it or not, you are a good negotiator. Someone who is good in these topics is going to be immensely beneficial for said talks. Plus, would it not make you feel at home being on a small island with a fleet that is feared?"

Despite trying his best to remain as close to the truth as he could, it still did not sit right with him. A bit like a stone stuck in a shoe that will not budge no matter how hard one tries to remove said object. Always there at the back of the mind and never disappearing. How did people do this so often? They probably get so caught up in their own lies and schemes and this is what causes them to eventually fall when the brick that started the tower is removed. In this case though, it's a castle. A huge castle. One that has stood for nearing three hundred years and has long been impregnable much like the Eyrie, Casterly Rock, and many others. 

"When do you want me to leave, brother."

The last word was almost spat out of the heir of the Iron Islands lips, clearly taking massive insult to Robb's final statement. It wasn't a nice thing to do, rub it into his face that he is here on the orders of the King to keep Lord Balon at bay.

"Men are leaving for White Harbour soon; you will be leaving with them. I'd expect for them to move out within the next week."

He watched an emotion come onto his face he had never seen before. Or at least, not to his knowledge. His entire face contorting into one of absolute fury. A calm fury, like he was a storm ready to wreak havoc. Like a dam that had been held up for so long that it had finally reached breaking point and was going to burst through.

"Is it your sole purpose to get rid of everyone you call brother?"

Immediately, Robb felt his stomach drop. No words were spoken, but he knew just what Theon meant with that. Insinuating he had been the one to push Jon to leave to further secure his position. It was a common belief that bastards were evil and only wanted to overthrow their betters, even where Theon came from where it was common for one man to have numerous wives. They could only have one rock wife, but they could have however many salt wives as they pleased. 

"Never speak about Jon that way in front of me. And if you dare bring up that I was the one to push him out again because I feared he would take my claim from under my feet, I will be handing you to the King myself."

Just not King Robert. A part of him wanted to send Theon to Jon and have it confirmed that way.

"He left of his own accord. I wanted him to remain, but he is stubborn. And as far as I am aware, he is dead. I'd think you of all people would understand that."

As soon as the words left his mouth, he regretted it immediately. When he was brought here, his father had told him not to bring up his brother's deaths, and that he was to be made at home whilst he was here. A loud bang echoed in the room and a moment later, Robb watched the older leave in a fury he had never seen before on his face. He stood up and closed the door behind him before sighing loudly before whispering to himself.

"I hope you know what you're doing Jon."

Catelyn III

It was a warm day in the Riverlands, much warmer than usual. To the point the usual muddy banks of the numerous rivers were dried up and the water was shallow. Numerous fields surrounding them, and two large towns already being ridden through. Catelyn had docked at Maidenpool the night prior and had immediately began riding along the coast where she would come to the Vale. Normally, whenever she made long journeys, she would stop for a night or two before travelling, but she did not have the luxury of that at this moment. She had to meet her father's men on their journey. There was no way they weren't riding hard for the Eyrie just as she was currently. Hoster may be old and frail and nearing the end of his life, but he wasn't stupid. 

She'd spent many days in his solar as he was lecturing them all on how everything worked. Herself picking it up probably the best out of them all, and she knew her father despised being weak despite his age. And he loved them all dearly, he would fight tooth and nail to protect his children. There was a fair chance she would be meeting Edmure, and if he were there she would be willing to bet the little gold she had on her that Patrek Mallister would be with him. The pair had been joined at the hip since they were children, and it was something she had to take into consideration. A smaller House, but an influential one. Sitting directly on the western coastline at Seagard on Ironman's Bay, situated between Wendish Town and the Twins of the crossing. 

The heat was beating down uncomfortably on her, but she had to keep going if she were to succeed. She either needs to get to the Eyrie before they do and try to talk sense into Lysa, or she intercepts them and they speak to her sister together. She doubted the younger would listen, she just wasn't like that. Catelyn had lost count when she was around ten name-days of the amount of times she had yelled at her sister and Lysa had made her feel guilty. But now, that wasn't happening. In a single moment of wanting revenge, she has just started a war. And with her father's men now leaving to head towards the castle high in the sky, it would mean the Riverlands would be easy to take. Tywin may take notice of that to teach them a lesson. Meaning she had to be quick about this.

Her horse was panting hard and she could see the sweat gleaming off its snow-white coat, the sunlight reflecting off it and creating a striking effect. It wasn't everyday a woman was seen galloping along the coast towards the River Road. She'd gotten more than a few funny stares as she carried on, but she paid them no mind. She reached the border come nightfall the following day, and her legs were stiff as were her arms, and she was sure she had numerous saddle sores in between her thighs that were ready to burst. It was once she was here that she decided she wasn't going to wait for the men to arrive, she was going straight to the Eyrie. 

Lysa never did good in a confrontational setting, and if all of them were to confront her with what she had done, it would go nowhere. She was the closest to them if her calculations were correct. With the thought in mind, she pulled her scarf over her head, making sure her hair was tucked tightly into her clothing so it wouldn't fall out before turning east. Catelyn had visited the Eyrie a grand total of once in her life, she had only been a young girl at the time when her father agreed to betroth Lysa to the man after the betrothal with Jaime Lannister fell through. She remembered the look on her face when her father told her, and she sure as nothing else remembered the tantrum that followed.

And then she had begged her father to call it off and allow her to wed their ward from the Fingers. When Petyr had come to Riverrun, she couldn't remember with certainty, but the time she had spent there was joyous. Well, that was until the dreaded fight between him and Brandon. What was going through the man's mind at the time? Not only was he only fourteen and she nearly eighteen, but he wasn't from a large House. House Baelish was probably the weakest House there was in the Vale, the fact their seat was called Dreartower only amplified this. She'd trusted the man beforehand, but after that she trusted him only a little. And now that man had a seat on the small council and was apparently bragging of how he had taken her maidenhood when she was betrothed to Brandon. 

From where he got the notion, she knew nought, but that wasn't up for discussion now. The only thing on her mind was getting to her sister and hopefully by some miracle from the seven above talk sense into her. If she were to release Tyrion, it would still be considered a slight, and there is a fair chance his father may retaliate. But a chance of retaliation over definitive retaliation was better than nothing. It took two more days before she entered the valley which led to the Bloody Gate, a warm feeling entering her. She had been fond of her uncle. He took her under his wing when her father could not and giving her some military knowledge. Knowledge she may be putting to use in the forthcoming storm that was brewing unknowingly. 

At least she had managed to stall it for a time after speaking with Varys, and she couldn't hide the small smile from coming onto her face as she remembered the look he wore when she confirmed she knew what he was doing too. He would've pieced it together that with her knowing, Eddard certainly knew. Numerous guards were lined up outside and demanded to see who was coming upon the gates. She didn't recognise either of these men, but when she removed her scarf she saw understanding dawn on them as they let her through so she could enter the gate. From foot, the fortress was undoubtedly impregnable. Not only from the gates to get there, but with the treacherous terrain plus the fact it was built atop a mountain so high it disappeared into the clouds. 

The men presented her with bread and salt as custom decreed, and she asked if her uncle was around. A few went quiet at this which caught her attention but eventually one stated he had gone up to the castle to speak to Lysa as well. This notion calmed her, knowing that she wouldn't be alone in these talks. It wouldn't surprise her if her father had sent his younger brother a raven so he could do so to prepare for the other men arriving. That sounded like something Hoster Tully would do. His body may be old, but his mind is still as sharp as a sword. As much as remaining for the night was tempting, she couldn't fall to temptation. After finishing a small meal of fresh salmon that had been caught in a nearby river this morning, she mounted her horse again and began down the long winding road to the mountain.

All around were plantation she had never seen, and others she had only seen a handful of times. To her right was a rock wall covered with daisies, dandelions, and orchids. To her left was a stream littered with lavender and snow drops on the banks. It had been a long time since she had saw flowers not situated in glass gardens or a Godswood, and it made her feel at home. The North was her home now, had been her home for seventeen years, but she would always be a Riverlander at heart. Part of the reason Ned had built a small Sept for her when she first rode through the gates of Winterfell. It felt like it was only days ago at times so much had happened. 

A good hour had passed before she finally got to the bottom of the mountain where a large stable was outside with horses, donkeys, and mules alike. A young woman walked up and asked to take her mare, gratefully handing the reins over to her. She appeared to be the same height as Catelyn but she had a stronger build. But it was clear she did have a woman's body. With black hair falling to her jawline and cut in a way it was kept from her face. Pale skin which contrasted greatly and piercing blue eyes. She seemed familiar, but she couldn't put her finger on it.

"I will ready a mule for you, my Lady. I'm Mya Stone and I'll be guiding you up the mountain."

Her lips curled in a little at this but managed to hide it a moment later. She knew that name, Ned spoke about the girl Robert Baratheon had fathered when they were fostering under Jon Arryn. Now she knew, she could see their shared features. One of two bastards the King acknowledge behind Edric at Storm's End. Meaning to some extent she was a cousin to Jon considering they did share a great-grandparent. Or was it twice great-grandparent? It was difficult to keep up at times. She'd only been waiting for ten minutes before she came up with two mules in hand, both saddled up with supplies and a pouch of food as it would take a long time to get to the castle. She couldn't even see it, the clouds much lower than usual today, and some mist surrounding the greenery around her. 

Not much was said on their journey, although she did let slip she had been sharing a bed with Mychel Redfort. This caused the older to cringe slightly as that would not look good for the young squire. Of how she wished to marry him but Catelyn knew that was wishful thinking at best. Perhaps if he were not of such a large House it may be accepted, but never a Redfort. They were one of the most influential Houses in the Vale, with only the Royce's, Corbray's and Arryn's being ahead of them. As they got higher, it was getting increasingly difficult to breathe, but she could see the looming shadow of the castle above now. It felt like hours had passed before they finally made it to the courtyard situated outside and Catelyn wasted no time in getting off the mule, the size of the animal made it uncomfortable to ride. But there was no way a horse would've gotten up those narrow pathways.

A few guards spotted her and one disappeared inside. There was no need for her to hide her hair anymore so she removed her scarf and pulled her auburn waves out from underneath her clothing so they were free to move in the wind. It was cold up here, much colder than she remembered. But she was used to the cold, despite Winterfell's walls being filled with pipes pumping steaming water from the hot springs below. She remembered not long after Robb was born where Ned had said his mother would bathe in them at times only for them all to jump on top of her when they were babes. It was rare they spoke of their upbringings to one another, but the few times they did always led to tears of laughter. 

"This way, my Lady. Lady Arryn is holding court currently and has requested you to be placed in the guest quarters beside Ser Brynden."

She nodded at this and followed the man inside the castle. Inside she could see it was domed in shape and appeared to be nearing fifty feet in height. Going both inside the mountain and atop it. Being led down a spiral staircase made of white marble with navy walls with numerous paintings on them depicting the history of the castle. From the Andal invasion so long ago, to the battles between the First Men and them, and even the more recent event of a grey dragon in the courtyard with a young boy seated on its back with a woman behind him. Everyone knew of it, how Visenya had rode Vhagar right into the courtyard and offered the young King Ronnel Arryn a ride in exchange for bending the knee to her brother. And to think history may be repeating itself in the foreseeable future. 

Robb had said it seemed to be within two years that dragons could be ridden, something Maester Aemon had seemingly confirmed when researching into it. But Rhaegon and Lyrax were growing at an alarmingly quick rate. It honestly wouldn't surprise her if her nephew mounted one of them within the next few months. And that would be a wondrously terrifying thing to witness. A Targaryen atop a dragon at the head of an army again. Yet there was an army already surrounding him alongside two feared fleets. The North commanded almost thirty thousand fighting men, and her home Kingdom commanded just shy of ten thousand. Plus, he has the Velaryon's and the Dayne's at his back which would easily add an extra few hundred to the already large number. 

And he'll also have Stannis backed into a corner as he's using the other Valyrian family as spies on the middle Baratheon brother. It was a smart move to make, but a part of her thought it too bold a move being such a new player in the game. Which meant he was either getting cocky or he was building himself up so he would be the victor when everything kicks off. Her thoughts left her mind as she entered the room, noticing the navy and white décor of their House colours surrounding her completely. But she did spot some red as well which she knew were additions of her sister to remind her of Riverrun. Walking over to the window, she noticed they were low into the mountain, could see the thin path she had ridden up on a few metres below. The view was spectacular, could see as far as multiple miles away, and could see the sun nearing its setting and creating a striking pink and purple skyline. 

"I thought they were kidding when they said you were here."

The voice immediately had her feeling warmth running through her as she turned towards her uncle. He was considerably older than she remembered, his hair grey and missing a few patches. But he still had those warm blue eyes she remembered. 

"As soon as I heard what she done, I knew I had to come here. Try and talk some sense into her before father's men get here."

Brynden sighed deeply before shutting the door behind him.

"She isn't holding court; she's refusing to see you."

Deep down, a part of her knew that, but it still stung hearing it said aloud. They were close as young girls, but as soon as Catelyn reached womanhood they had drifted apart. When it came to both leaving their childhood home, they had barely been able to stay in the same room as one another.

"Did you get anywhere with her? And how long has she had the man imprisoned?"

It was only now she noticed he was carrying a flagon of wine alongside a glass which she took gratefully. The sweetness of the Arbor Gold lingering on her tongue as she awaited an answer.

"Nay, unfortunately. She's refusing to listen to reason. I was half-tempted to leave but we Tully's never betray our own. Family, duty, honour."

That didn't sit right with her. By duty she should be supporting her sister, but duty was compelling her to support her nephew too. And she knew Jon was not ready to let it out yet. It would be far too dangerous with Robert Baratheon still seated on the throne. Never mind the fact that Ned and her girls were in Kings Landing. 

"Unfortunately, uncle, I have to remain neutral. Due to my husband being Hand to Robert and my daughter betrothed to the Crown Prince, we cannot support this as it will end in my family's deaths."

She watched as her words sunk into him, being glad he didn't seem disappointed in her. She took council in him often when she was younger, and she had been devastated when the fight broke out between him and her father which led to him denouncing himself of all titles to Riverrun so he couldn't be used to usurp Edmure. Yes, her father never said it aloud, but she knew he was doing it. Probably would've had her younger brother shadow their uncle as Lord Paramount before allowing him to step aside so he could take the position. 

"Lysa won't see it that way, she'll see it as you abandoning our house."

"I'm aware, but I'm not sending my husband and daughters to that fate."

Quiet now loomed in the room now as she finished her glass before placing it down on the table. 

"She's doomed us to war no matter what, uncle- "

"Nay, she's sped it up. I'm sure you've received the raven regarding the Prince's and Princess."

Confusion overcame her now at this as she looked to him curiously, wondering what he meant by that. He must've noticed the expression and understood she had no idea what he was talking about.

"Your husband found out why Jon Arryn was murdered and he sent a raven to your son Robb, who proceeded to send a raven to us alongside my brother. The royal children are not King Robert's, they are the Kingslayer's."

If she hadn't already finished her wine, she was sure she would've spat at that. This changed everything even more. It now making sense why Stannis was doing what he was, and it also explained Jon making brasher moves than she expected. If Robb had sent a raven to them, he sent one to Jon, meaning the Dayne's also know. And if the Dayne's know, this meant the Martell's were due to find out. Now, she was glad that her nephew was keeping tabs on the middle Baratheon as it meant he would know his movements. She'd never met Monford Velaryon, but she knew he was close to Rhaegar and was furious at the deaths of his eldest two children. He would've supported Stannis if it weren't for Jon as there is a weak kinship, but the last legitimate son of a friend bartered no argument. If she were in the man's position, she knew what she would be doing.

"The King does not know?"

Brynden simply shook his head in the negative at her question.

"If he did there's no way he would still be wed to Cersei. I wouldn't have put it past the man to kill her alongside her twin. I always thought they were closer than normal siblings, but I never would've pictured this."

They were both cut off from their talk as someone knocked on the door. Upon opening, Catelyn saw it was the same man who had escorted her to the room, and he simply stated Lysa was ready to speak with them. With the thought in mind, she gathered her skirts so she did not trip on the stairs and followed him up with her uncle close behind. The Lords quarters were in the highest portion of the castle and were decorated with plain white marble and numerous glass and gem inlays creating a striking seven-pointed-star in the colours of the rainbow. The Eyrie to a lot of people is seen as the centre for Andals as the Arryn's were direct descendent of the Andalosi and they were fiercely passionate about their faith. 

When she stepped inside, it was difficult for her not to widen her eyes at what she was seeing. She'd heard from her few informants that her sister still fed her son at her breast but seeing it was something else. The boy was of an age with Bran, and he was having to bend at an awkward angle to get milk from her swollen teats. Lysa was sat down at the desk not looking up from her son, her intentions being clear. She was trying to rile them up by ignoring them. It was when the door was closed behind them that she finally looked up to them before shooing her son away. It was a pitiful sight, seeing such a young boy like this, but he wasn't just a young boy. This was the Lord Paramount of the Vale. 

"I'm guessing you've come to support us, sister?"

Catelyn kept her face passive as she stared at her sister.

"No, I'm not. I won't support this. You are aware my husband is Hand to the King and my daughter is betrothed to the crowned Prince. By you taking Tyrion, you have just put them into a corner."

From beside her, she heard their uncle snort lightly, the youngest in the room probably not hearing it. But this was not amusing at all, he was obviously trying to diffuse the brewing tension in the room. She watched as the younger snapped her head to her and gave her a look confirming she was furious she wasn't getting support from her.

"First uncle and now you! What happened to our words, sister?! We support one another! That thing murdered my husband!"

"I thought you said it was Tywin who ordered your husbands death, that's what your letter said when you sent it to me."

From the corner of her eye, she caught the confused look on the other occupant's face. It was only there for perhaps a second, but she knew him well. This meant he was unaware of this which confused her too. Surely if she told her she would've told him too considering he was stationed so close to her? Lysa's face was turning an interesting shade of red now, contrasting strongly against her navy and silver dress she was wearing, not even bothering to tuck in her still leaking teat as she stood up in a fury she didn't think was possible on her.

"You honestly don't get it do you? I said I had informants who witnessed Tywin purchasing Tears of Lys but I never said it was him who did so. I sent more spies and they reported he instructed his grotesque of a son to do so to get rid of him!"

"What? And get rid of his heir? Aye it's true the old lion despises Tyrion as Joanna died birthing him, but whether he likes it or not, he is his heir. He won't throw their legacy away like that without getting his golden twin out of the white cloak."

Brynden all but snapped this at her, it becoming obvious they had been arguing about this for days.

"I am simply confirming what my informants- "

"Either your informants are lying, misheard, or were bought off. I agree with uncle, Lysa. And your words are not going to change my mind. Your single moment of wanting revenge without adequate proof other than word of mouth has now cornered my family. For someone who claims to be supportive of our words, I think you would know what side I would take."

It was rare she got angry. In fact, she couldn't remember the last time she was truly angry. But she was now. It wouldn't surprise her if her face were beginning to turn red like their hair. Before the younger could speak another word, she continued.

"My husband found out why Jon was killed, I'm sure you're aware of it. He was trying to figure out a way to tell the King so he could begin to remove the Lannister's. But with you doing this you've sped things up. You've doomed us to war, Lysa. And if it's a war you want, I will state I am not going to support it. My son is the acting Lord Paramount of the North and he is not going to put his father and sisters into such a position. This will then have father tied between us both which will sever the Riverlands. And in case you've forgotten, what Kingdom borders them to the West? The Westerlands do, and Tywin is their Paramount."

As she spoke, the younger was only getting redder, clearly not liking being talked to like this. She'd always been stubborn, but this was taking Tully stubbornness to a whole new level. 

"Where is he?"

The silence that came at these words from the eldest could've pierced them. Now, the youngest looked down for a split second before mumbling the answer. Sky cells. The famous cells carved into the sides of the mountain hundreds of feet above with slanted floors. 

"I won't support you in the war you're starting out of vengeance, but I'll give you advice. Keep him as a hostage, or better yet hold a trial for him. It won't tamper the old lion's pride, but it'll certainly look better. Doing so might pause everything by a few months."

She spotted her uncle nod her way, confirming he was proud of her. If she couldn't support her, she was going to at least give her advice.

"You want me to treat the man who killed my husband as a guest?!"

"You don't know he was the one who killed your husband, Lysa! We know it was the Lannister's but they have numerous Houses under them. And in case you're forgetting, there is more than simply the main branch. Tywin does have siblings, and he has nieces and nephews, and grandnieces and grandnephews. It could've been either of them that done it."

She waited on a response, but it never came. Her sister looking at her with a look of pure hatred. Not liking being told the facts of what she had done. But it needed to be said. With that, Catelyn turned and left the room, with her uncle following close behind. Lysa didn't even wait until the door was closed before letting out a screech so loud it echoed throughout the entire corridor they were in. This was only amplified as they heard items being throw against walls. 

"Do you think she'll listen?"

The older shook his head at his niece's words.

"Nay, she won't. Not to us at least. Let's hope father's men will be able to talk some sense into her."


	23. XXII

Jaeron XVIII

Ever since he had been told, Jon could say with certainty he rarely got nervous. But as he and Arthur got onto the boat that would take them to the town outside Sunspear, he could say with certainty he was. He'd always known he wanted to get the Martell's on his side, but now he was doing it, and it struck him just how unprepared he really was with everything. But as Howland had said to him so many months ago, there is no turning back now. He's made too many moves to backtrack, he can only move forward from now on. They had stayed in Starfall for roughly ten days, solidifying how many men could be spared as they were going to support him. 

Edric had rode off a few days prior with a small guard surrounding him to meet with Lord Beric. Luckily, the seat of who he was going to be squiring under was right on the border of the Reach and the Stormlands. They would be heading for Skyreach first, then north through the Prince's Pass to Nightsong, and then east from there to get to their destination. The young Lord had also received a raven a couple of days in that they would be heading to Kings Landing as they were summoned by Robert for something. It wasn't going to be long before everything was set in motion. The pieces are in place, it is just a waiting game to see when the first piece will fall.

Now, he was standing at the prowl, looking out at the Summer Sea. According to Arthur, it would take five days to reach the seat of the ruling Seat of Dorne. The sun was setting and he watched as the sky turned into a brilliant patten of red, orange, and purple, mirroring on the calm water. Normally, this would be a calming thing for him, but the young male was anything but calm currently. The closer they got, the more nervous he got. And nerves were not a good thing. Hence why two days into their journey, he had pulled Arthur into his cabin and began asking questions about them. 

It didn't do much for him considering he didn't know them well. He knew Lewyn Martell well considering he had been on the Kingsguard, but he had gone down during the battle of the Trident. The man had been uncle to Doran and Oberyn, this being how Arthur knew them before Elia had wed Rhaegar. The only thing he knew for certain he had to emphasise on was that even though they were not blood to one another, they did share a blood link through the deceased Prince and Princess. There are times where Jaeron wondered what could have happened if things had worked out in different ways.

What if his father had been the one to strike the killing blow on Robert and not the other way around? What if Brandon hadn't assumed the worst immediately? What if his mother survived the birth with him? Would she have set things straight or would she have done what duty dictated of her? A part of him doubted it. From the little he had heard of his mother; he knew she would not have taken kindly to being made to wed the Baratheon. Even more so as he had killed Rhaegar. What if Tywin arrived at the capital after Eddard? Would Elia and the babes be saved? And if so, what would she think of him? Would she just see him as a product of a union she never had with her husband, or would she treat him as family? Would his blood siblings have treated him as their little brother or treated him like he was an outsider?

They're things he will never know, and that is something he needs to make peace with. Even if he hates it. He tried desperately to remember what Arthur had told him regarding them that day he asked in Greywater Watch, but it all seemed a blur to him. It hadn't even been that long ago but it felt like it was years ago with how fast everything is moving now. The only thing that stuck out to him was that Elia had apparently broken Oberyn's nose for calling her weak. With the thought in mind, three days into their journey, he finally cornered the Knight.

"Ser, I know it pains you so, and it pains me to ask it of you. But I need to know everything. I can't do this without knowing it all in detail."

Purple eyes dropped down to the deck of the ship before he exhaled hard, softly nodding, and gesturing the younger under the deck to the room he was in. They were the only ones aboard apart from one other guard alongside the captain of the ship. All of which were in on it which he was glad about as it meant they didn't need to hide. If he doesn't need to smear that nasty brown paste through his steadily growing back hair he was happy. 

"What do you remember of the Martell brothers?"

He watched as the older took a long sip of his wine, and subconsciously resting his hand over his sword. As someone who had grown up hearing the tales of him and the legendary sword that had been forged from the remnants of a falling star, seeing it made him turn into a giddy toddler for a moment. Valyrian steel was beautiful to look at, but Dawn was something else. The blade so pale that it was almost translucent and with ripples all over it that seemed to glow every time the light hit it. The pommel and hilt were understandably covered with a device much like he had with Dark Sister to detract suspicion.

"I don't remember much I'm afraid, I didn't know them well. And what I did know of them is outdated. We're going back nearing eighteen years here, Jaeron."

"Anything is better than nothing, though."

That stopped the brewing argument that was about to break out with them. He hated having him feel uncomfortable, but he can't go on not knowing everything around him. That leads to downfall from the beginning.

"Elia was extremely close with her brothers, and she spoke of them often. I knew them myself considering their uncle was in our brotherhood and he spoke of his nephews too. Of how Oberyn was extremely inquisitive but rarely could keep concentration. To him also having a temper that could rival a raging Baratheon. I know he loved his little sister fiercely, and ultimately; he always respected her decisions. Even if he hated it, he knew she liked to be her own person. Doran on the other hand, was always a quiet man. There were times where his uncle joked he'd had his tongue removed as he always spoke so little and when he did it would just be a few words here and there. I always got the consensus he was someone who watched and learned more than learned by doing things.

"But when his gout started and he steadily got weaker as time went on, he spoke more. I won't lie to you, but that man is incredibly intelligent. Sometimes the quiet ones are the ones that make the greatest impact in the long run. I heard Elia talking to your father in passing a few times of how he used his weakness as his greatest advantage. People think he's useless due to it, so they're always shocked that he was anything but. I think that was something she took to heart. Aye, she was sickly. That much was known. But she was no weakling, that much I'll tell you. I've never seen someone throw a spear like Elia could, and she had a wicked strong punch. Not many people who are considered weak, are short, are sickly, would be able to break their much older and stronger sibling's nose."

This surprised the younger. Arthur was being careful in what he was saying lest the other two overheard. Even if they know the truth, the less people who know of their plans, the better. 

"You think she used her sickly nature as a weapon?"

"Aye, I do. I don't know if she was in on what Rhaegar was planning with Rhaella, but I'd be willing to bet she was. If she weren't summoned to the capital during it all, I genuinely believe there is a strong chance she would've survived. She probably would've taken the children and disguised them and went to somewhere in Essos. Possibly even take Viserys and Daenerys under her wing. I know your uncle is dead and it was at the hands of his sister's husband of all people, but he wasn't always like that. He did spend a lot of time with Aerys, but he spent just as much time with Rhaella. He loved his mother dearly, that much is known."

It went quiet for a few minutes as the words sank in for him, each heavier than the last. But it's something he needs to hear. And Arthur knew from first-hand experience. 

"I need to tell you something, Jaeron. And you're not going to like it."

He frowned a little at this before looking him directly in the eye.

"Allyria isn't my sister, she's my niece. She's also a lot younger than she appears to be, only a couple of months older than yourself."

He felt like a boulder had been dropped on him at this as he reeled back in shock. Why had he lied about that? He opened his mouth about to retort but then he closed his mouth and carefully thought. He knew of his older brother Amaric, but he had been dead for a long time. Was she his daughter? If that was the case, then Edric was her little brother. Now that he thought on it, he noticed she looked quite a bit different from the rest of them. Whereas they all had a deeper caramel shade to their skin, she did not. She wasn't pale, but she wasn't dark either. From what he had seen, their hair was all curly but hers was not. And she was eighteen? She presented a lot older than she was. But what if Amaric wasn't her father? If this was the case, then that must mean... 

He stopped as realisation kicked in. He'd heard about Ashara a lot. Of how she had acted as a mediator during it all. Had essentially been used as a raven to allow everyone to communicate. Of how she'd had a fling with someone at the tourney and had fallen pregnant. They'd said the babe had been a girl but was apparently stillborn. The dates added up.

"She's Ashara's daughter? Who's her father then?"

"I'm afraid I don't know with certainty. But all I can tell you is that it was not Eddard. She spoke fondly of him, but she did confirm they did not lay together. I've tried to figure it out for years, but I was never able to do so, unfortunately."

He was looking around the small cabin in shock now. He'd heard a little about the tourney, but this was turning everything on its axis. They were openly playing against him, and this set him on edge. If the Dayne's were who had now sworn to him, who else was playing against him? He doubted it was Howland, he's proven to be the most loyal out of them all so far. And he knew it wasn't the Stark's because family always comes first for them. Catelyn had confirmed it was not the Tully's because she was the only one who knew it. This only left the other occupants at Greywater Watch, Maester Luwin, or the brothers at the Night's Watch. Luwin was sworn to the castle though and not to anyone in it, so that was unlikely. And he'd received a raven from Jeor confirming the one who had spoken up had been executed for breaking his vows. This would've scared the others into compliance, and they had seen the dragons.

"Don't lie to me again, Ser. No matter how difficult it is, I will not have liars in my service- "

"Everyone is a liar, Jaeron. You're doing so yourself by setting yourself up as being lost beyond the Wall."

His lips twisted at that. He despised lying, it had been drummed into him for years in Winterfell how bad it was. Yet he would be a hypocrite otherwise.

"Okay, if I ask you anything directly, don't lie to me about it."

This was something they could both agree on. 

"Did you know my siblings well?"

That seemed like a good place to start. He'd asked before but he had promptly changed the topic of discussion by detailing everything. He tried his best to remember what he had been told. Elia was aware that Rhaegar was going to do what he did and she supported it, had apparently laughed when she was told what his mother had done. And it was also when Doran and Oberyn found out that they'd annulled their marriage a couple of months prior.

"I didn't know your brother well. He was only a name-day old when it all kicked off. But the few times I met him; he was a happy baby. Your father adored him, just as much as he did Rhaenys. There wasn't much your father was open about, but the love for his children was one of those few things. He believed Aegon was a symbol for some prophecy he was obsessed with. I didn't take part in these notions though. Now, I did know Rhaenys well. She was an absolute delight. A bit of a terror at times too. I can't count the number of times I found her stuck in a tree because she climbed so high. Had a bit of a mouth on her too. I remember a time where she called Oswell uncle poop because he didn't let her have more of her favourite treat. She was obsessed with Volantene nut pastries, had always been."

Now, Jaeron let out a cackling laugh. Something Arthur followed soon with. Gods, she sounded like a little character. And he knew if she had survived, he would have loved her dearly. 

"What did he say back to her?"

By now, the older was shaking in his seat trying desperately to stop but was failing massively so.

"I can't remember actually, only that it caused her to stomp off in a toddler tantrum."

Jaeron managed to keep a straight face for approximately ten seconds before laughing all over again. It felt good to do so, it felt like it had been years since he had laughed like this, and it certainly helped with his nerves over what he was going to be doing very soon. Even if he can get them to remain neutral would be a miracle. After a long time, he managed to stop and took a long drink of the wine Arthur had taken from Starfall when they had left. It pained him so that he would never be able to meet them.

"Arya found Rhaenys' cat in the tunnels below the Red Keep. No idea if she kept it or not but it wouldn't surprise me. She also found a brooch they all apparently had- "

"One of their sigil. I remember. Wait, where did she find it? Because they never had them off when Doran had them made."

He thought for a few seconds, trying to remember the raven sent so many weeks before.

"Found it in a box if I'm remembering correctly. She was chasing cats for some reason and somehow found Balerion. She followed him out of a tunnel into a cave off the Blackwater where it was hidden from view. Apparently there was a teddy in it too."

Arthur was stunned at this before leaning back quietly. The younger swirled the deep red liquid around but didn't take another drink, he hadn't acquired a particular taste to southern drinks yet. 

"You said my father believed my brother was a part of some prophecy? This is the first I'm hearing of this."

The older bit his lips a little but he elaborated further on the question. Remembering they had agreed not to lie to one another if asked directly.

"It started with your twice-great-grandfather Aegon V. I'm not sure where he heard it from but he did. Something about someone being born from salt and smoke and would bring the dawn. I didn't pay a huge amount of attention to it though. Something about said person being a promised prince and about a flaming sword- "

"You mean the legend of Azor Ahai?"

Arthur was shocked at this but then he remembered he had grown up in Winterfell. If anyone would know of said prophecy, it was him. Unease settled in his gut but he asked him to continue.

"Your father was a bookish type. Then one day he arrived in the training grounds asking to be taught how to fight. A few people laughed at him but he proved them wrong very quickly. He was an incredibly gifted fighter, and his abilities showed from a young age. When we asked him why he suddenly took an interest, he said he'd come across his grandfather's research. Jaehaerys much like his own father, believed in the prophecy. So much so this was what drove him to the decision to wed his children together. He genuinely believed this promised prince would be born from their line. He believed he fit the criteria, but this changed when Aegon was born and he instead believed it would be him. But both are dead, so we won't know the full details- "

"Yes we do."

Jaeron stood up and began pacing the room. He and Howland had agreed not to talk about what they had witnessed, of what his first kill was. Then again, was it his first kill? Because technically they were already dead. How does something that was already dead die again? Arthur was looking to him quizzically, clearly noting the uncomfortable look on his face.

"Ser, what I am about to tell you is going to sound insane, but I swear to you under every possible god there is, that I am speaking the truth."

Nerves were eating him up as he steadily sat back down in front of him, could see the emotions running through the boy. Expressions he hadn't seen in almost two decades. 

"Azor Ahai is another name for a promised prince. The full legend is that a betrayal from the Bloodstone Emperor in Yi-Ti began an age of darkness, which would be coined the Long Night. It was said he was born amidst salt and smoke under a bleeding star, and during this time the White Walkers came with their army. This was why the First Men and the Children signed a pact, to fight their common enemy as one. Azor Ahai had a wife called Nissa Nissa and apparently to defeat the threat, she allowed her husband to sacrifice her. And once his blade was covered in her blood, the sword glowed red. This allowed him to be able to kill the leader of the Walkers thus ending the devastating event."

"It's just a legend though- "

"I don't think so, Ser. I don't know if I believe in the prophecy, but there's no denying there is truth to it. Surely a magical ice wall wasn't built to keep Wildling's out. What if it was built to keep the Walkers out and they were just the unlucky lot who got cut off during the construction?"

The older shook his head, clearly finding it maddening. 

"Ser Arthur, look me in the eye."

His voice dropped a little at this and Arthur clearly noticed the change in atmosphere with them as he looked at the young King.

"The Walkers are real. I know with certainty as does the Night's Watch and Howland. I told you how my uncle went missing and Ghost found the two he was with, didn't I?"

The older nodded lightly, confirming he did remember.

"The bodies had no rot on them, nor did they have any scent to them at all. They'd been gone for weeks and with the decay on their bodies, they should've had a stench so putrid one would never forget it. It was late so they were put in a spare room so Aemon could examine them in the morning. Ghost woke me up a few hours later and led me to the Lord Commander's chambers. Nothing was out of place and he was asleep, but then the door slammed and one of them came at me- "

"Jaeron, are you saying what I think you are?"

The younger nodded frantically, panic beginning to sink in. It had been so long ago now but the memory was as fresh to him as what he had eaten to break his fast that morning.

"As you'll know, Dark Sister is a longsword, which isn't ideal for fighting in proximity. I grabbed a knife and stabbed him but nothing happened. Just continued like it was a papercut. I ended up throwing a desk between me and it and this allowed me to get the hit in which killed it. Jeor saw what had happened himself and ordered both bodies to be burned immediately. But I did cut the arm off him first with the knife and said body part was still wriggling. Alliser Thorne was tasked in presenting it at Kings Landing but I've not heard anything about it since. I thought it was all tales as well but seeing it- "

He trailed off as he took a large gulp of the sour liquid. It had a pleasant taste to start with, but it didn't remain for long. But he needed something to district himself from what he was talking about. The whole time, he didn't break eye contact with the Knight, letting him come to his own conclusions. From the way his face was steadily getting paler, he knew he believed him.

"You're being serious? A Walker was going to attack Jeor Mormont?"

"Not a Walker, a Wight. Walkers are the leaders according to the stories, Wights are just their army."

Silence surrounded the pair and it struck him how only ten minutes prior they had been laughing merrily over his deceased sister. Nothing could be said, what had been spoken shocking them both into a trance almost. The next day no words were spoken between them of their talk from before. Both planning on how to bring Dorne into the fold considering they would be docking the following day. Nerves were eating the younger up massively but he cannot back out now. The Martell's knew they were coming. And deep down, he had a feeling they knew more than they were letting on. When they weren't planning, they were sparring. Of course, Jaeron was not carrying Dark Sister nor had he taken said sword with him, it was far too recognisable. He was pleased with just Longclaw strapped to his hip currently. It had been a while since they had done so considering just how busy they had been over the last however many weeks. When the town with the massive castle overlooking it came into view, Jaeron felt as though his stomach was going to eat him from the inside out. But he couldn't show just how scared he was. He was doing this, and he had to remain the one on top. 

They docked at the harbour there and immediately went to work in finding an inn. Despite hoping everything went well, there was no denying that would be overstepping boundaries perhaps a little too much. It took them roughly an hour to find one that was relatively close to the castle but still being within view of the coastline so they wouldn't get lost. Arthur stating the town surrounding Sunspear had gotten substantially larger from the last time he had been here. It took them three days before a messenger was sent their way to alert them they were being requested for an audience. Probably a power play on the ruling family's part, but Jaeron didn't voice this aloud. 

"You know, I just remembered it's your name-day in a little more than a week."

Jaeron paused at this as he did the calculations in his head. He was correct. Gods, had it really been almost a year already? It feels like seconds have gone by but at the same time feels like numerous years have gone by. But he didn't have the time for such menial thoughts as they left the room, following the messenger to the castle up ahead.

Doran I

It was rare he heard from her. Something which he knew hurt his younger brother considering she was his daughter, but she had to remain hidden. If even a whisper got out of just who was in the Citadel, this would anger the Reach even more against them. However, when they did receive communication from her, it was only with important information she had come across. A couple of weeks prior he had received a raven from her after being told by Allyria Dayne to look out for two people, something Doran found odd. But as he read into it, his lip curled in out of anger and had asked his guards to find his brother and to get him here immediately.

Oberyn had been annoyed with him for that, and with the bright red marks on his neck, he knew what he had interrupted. But his incoming rant was stopped as he was handed the parchment, quietly reading the words. This was going to mess with his plans massively. He wasn't stupid, had never been, but everyone assumed him to be so. When his people had almost revolted against him for not getting justice for his butchered sister, he had to calm the waters. It left House Nymeros Martell in a tricky situation at best. One he had worked out a plan for which was almost fault proof.

Fifteen years prior, he had sailed to Braavos to meet with Ser Willem Darry on his way to visit Norvos. There, he had signed an agreement that once his daughter Arianne became a woman, she would wed the young Targaryen Prince Viserys. But before he did so, he needed to make sure he had an army, and Varys sent him the letter informing him of the large Khalasar that loomed outside of Pentos where Viserys was currently residing with his little sister Daenerys. Ever since he was young, Doran had wanted his family to be elevated from their current position. Prince's and Princess' was not enough for him. He wanted King's and Queen's of his blood. 

"The Sword of the Morning is alive? And escorting the Northern whore's bastard whilst he's at it?"

Doran snapped out of his thoughts as he looked to his brother.

"The child isn't a bastard, Oberyn. Lewyn confirmed it to me during it all, as did our sister before she was summoned back to the Red Keep to be held hostage. He is legitimate whether we like it or not."

"But it's not time for- "

Doran shot his brother a look, frantically looking around for anyone who might have been listening in. When he was certain this was not the case, he turned to him.

"Nay, it is not. But I can work with this. The boy is coming here with Arthur Dayne of all people. If there is anyone to blame for the death of our sister and her children, it is him. The boy was only a quickening in his mother's womb when they were killed, he is innocent. And I'd rather not anger the North because in case you've forgotten, it's larger than the other Kingdom's combined."

The younger shut up at this, but it was clear from the pinched expression on his face that he was angry. His main plan had fallen through with the death of Viserys, but he can always make more. From Sarella's raven, he knew they were headed for Starfall, and it was known there were people there who were in on it. Heck, Eddard Stark had ridden there after beating the Kingsguards stationed outside that damnable tower in the Prince's Pass. Except they hadn't been beaten if Arthur Dayne was walking around. That was a name that carried a lot of fear and even more respect, and this angered Doran. He knew they were probably ordered by Rhaegar to guard the pregnant Lyanna, leaving only Jaime Lannister of all people to remain. And instead of protecting the royal family, he had drove his sword into the King's back whilst his father's men went after his own family when their only crime was being alive. 

"I will listen to the boy and what he has to say. Nothing more, and nothing less. But there's one thing for certain, he will want revenge. And we can use that to our advantage."

Oberyn was still furious judging from how red his face was, but curiosity peeked through as he sat down in front of his brother to hear him.

"I believed the babe had perished with his mother hence why I've never considered this before. But he has direct links to the North, Riverlands, and Vale. That and the fact the Stark's have the Greyjoy heir as hostage which to an extent means the Iron Islands too. That's an impressive force. Now, I hate Robert Baratheon and Tywin Lannister as much as you do for what happened, but I'd be willing to bet my weight in gold that boy feels the same as us."

"You're not thinking of backing him? What about- "

"Not now, Oberyn. Listen to me first before jumping to conclusions. From his point of view, the man sitting on the throne is the reason his grandfather's, uncle, and mother are dead. Perhaps it was a misunderstanding, perhaps it was a blatant lie, we may never know. Only that Rhaegar and Lyanna were wed and that he and Elia had annulled their marriage behind everyone's backs before that tourney. I'm sure you'll remember the punch our dearest sister gave you?"

Subconsciously, he watched as his brother's hand went to his nose which was a little crooked from said incident. She'd felt horrible for it when she had done so, but he did deserve it. One does not walk away from calling a Martell weak. Not even within the family. 

"I taught her well."

He smiled a little at this, that he had. 

"Fetch me some parchment, I need to write some ravens. Then you can go off to whatever brothel you and Ellaria were visiting before I summoned you."

Oberyn did just that, handing him a stack over before disappearing. Doran thought carefully into everything. Ever since news had been received of Viserys being dead, he had been at a stalemate, had been a major block in his plans. He'd been considering sending Quentyn to Essos to search for Daenerys but he wasn't of age yet. That combined with the fact no one knew where the Princess was. For all they knew she was holed up in one of the ruined cities of Sarnor. Firstly, he wrote a raven to his daughter who was currently visiting her mother in her home city. It wouldn't reach her for a good month or two, but she had to be made aware. She was his heir after all. Women are not discriminated against in Dorne unlike the other Kingdoms. 

He could agree to a betrothal with her and this other boy whose name he did not know. There was an age difference between them, probably about eight years- possibly nine. But that's never stopped this before. But if he did when the time comes, he does not want her to be stuck between sides. He would need to run it by her before doing anything. But there were others. He hated to admit it, but he had a fantastic advantage in comparison with everyone else. His spies had reported about Stannis building a fleet and going around the Crownlands and Stormlands looking for allies. And he knew from his insiders that the royal children were the Queen's bastards with her twin. The second raven was to be sent to Illyrio but just as he was signing it off, there was a knocking on the door. He gave permission for them to come in and noticed it was one of his informants.

"My Prince, a boat has arrived from Essos. I believe the occupants are rather shy and would like to speak to you in solitude?"

His lips turned into a smile at this before nodding, quickly throwing the second raven scroll into the roaring fire. Seems like that was not needed after all.

Jaeron XIX

When they arrived outside the castle, Jaeron could say nothing. The splendour of the place completely taking his breath away. Something that seemed to be happening a lot more lately. He'd seen castles aplenty in the North, but there they were built for function. In the south, they were bult for function and for show. Each grander and larger than the last. To think he was only a few days away from the Red Keep was startling to him, but it was years away. His mind has still not changed regarding that damned chair, wants nothing to do with it, but it is where he will end up whether he likes it or not if he succeeds in settings things right. The inside was another matter entirely.

The floor was of a deep red carpet with golden designs in it, alongside a few suns and spears surrounding it. On the walls were gemstones and tapestries and precious metal and paintings galore. In amongst this were multiple weapons mounted on the walls that he had never seen before, some with whoever had owned them engraved on a golden plaque below them. One caught his attention, of a short blade that was incredibly thin, with a small curve to it. One that according to this, had belonged to the famed Warrior Queen who had been granted sanctuary by the Dornish for her and her people when escaping the Freehold. Thus, creating House Nymeros Martell, even if they only went by the latter of the names. But it was something he had to learn, and he could use it to his advantage. 

They were led into a large room also with mostly white décor but with a blue mosaic wall and a balcony overlooking the sea outside. No windows were needed here because it was warm here, and the gentle breeze coming from the sea was pleasant to them both. There was a large table that had an array of different foods on it, and Jaeron's eyes lit up at spotting some nut pastries. Just as he picked one up, he remembered with a small pit of sadness these had apparently been his sister's favourite as well. Steadily, he placed it back down and he noticed Arthur was sniffing some lemons and blood oranges. Clearly wanting to make sure there was nothing suspicious going on here. 

"May I present to you, Prince Doran Nymeros Martell of Dorne, alongside his brother Prince Oberyn Nymeros Martell."

Immediately, both fell into a bow despite it feeling awkward. Three Prince's and a Kingsguard in the one room, this was going to be interesting. He tried his best to remember his courtesies but this was the first time he was dealing with nobles directly. The Dayne's didn't wholly count considering they knew from the beginning, but he didn't know if they were aware on it. It's a strong possibility, but it's just a possibility. Not a certainty, and that is what he needs. 

"May I ask your name, your Grace?"

He paused for a moment at this, clearly surprised he knew already. But he didn't break eye contact with the older Martell. They looked to be of a similar age to one another, but one was seated on a chair rather than the bench surrounding the table they were at. He knew he was crippled from his gout, that was a known fact throughout Westeros.

"Jaeron Targaryen, my Prince."

There, he'd done it. Outed himself. The first time he had done so of his own accord was in a fit of anger, but this was much different in comparison. This time he was deliberately doing so with the intention of trying to at the least have them be complicit.

"I'm surprised you are showing your face, Ser. Considering you did not help our sister and her children."

Arthur bristled at this but Doran shot Oberyn a look which caused him to go quiet instantly. 

"I'm sure you're aware of the situation. My uncle discovered that the Prince's and Princess are not Robert Baratheon's, and that Stannis is currently working to gain allies."

"You do not use titles referring to the King?"

Jaeron took a long sip of water which he'd squeezed a bit of lemon into, the taste surprisingly refreshing. The Dornish heat was beginning to get to him, his skin beginning to blister underneath his clothing and would probably shed in a matter of days.

"Nay, I do not, nor will I. He sits on the throne that rightfully should've been my father's and my brother's after him. But his claim was built on a lie, and in the North where I was raised, we consider false claims to hold no merit. In my eyes, he is simply a usurper."

"Yet your uncle is serving as his Hand, correct?"

He could tell Arthur wanted to interject, but he needs to do this himself. 

"Indeed. A position he did not want to take but felt like he needed to. He wanted to find out about Jon Arryn. And what better way to find out than to take up his mantle? Something that has worked as we are now aware of Cersei's treachery. I don't know about you both, but I'm going to take great pleasure in telling the man the truth of everything."

It was only there for a split second, but he spotted Oberyn's lip uptick a little. Whether it was a smile or not he wasn't sure, but it was there, He also noted both were leaning forward ever so slightly, confirming they were either masters with body language, were genuinely interested, or were a mixture of both. This seemed to break the dam and they spoke, but it was obvious they were tiptoeing around one another. No matter what they have in common, he is always going to be the item that caused everything to occur. Misunderstanding or lie aside, that would always be the case, and it was something he needed to take into consideration. 

"I believe I am yet to receive a response, Ser?"

It went quiet at this, and his eyes momentarily moved to Doran's face but now he was staring directly at Arthur.

"I must say, I find it strange why there were three of you situated outside that tower when it was a second son that wasn't even born yet within. Why were you not protecting the firstborn?"

Jaeron already knew it, and the plans that were being made for them all to tie them together if his father had won. Plans which never came to the surface as Robert landed the killing blow, completely crushing his chest in and falling into the Trident.

"I was commanded- "

"Why were you commanded? A part of me doesn't believe this- "

The younger suddenly shot a glare at his older brother. Despite not having seen it, he knew what had happened. Doran must've either kicked him or punched him beneath the polished wood. It was something he done often with Robb and Arya growing up, and siblings will always be siblings no matter what.

"I was commanded by my Prince to protect his pregnant wife. He charged me, Oswell, and Gerold to the task because he had plans with Elia to free her children. Your sister was willing to sacrifice herself if her children got out alive. But the plans failed. I was asked to watch over Aegon, that is true. But I couldn't guard him considering King Aerys had him locked up in the Maidenvault. The same goes for Rhaenys, he had Gerold picked specifically because he was considering a betrothal offer for her. Oswell was commanded to guard Jaeron because through marriage bonds, they are related. Just not by blood."

Despite having heard it before, hearing the clipped way he had spoken the words made it seem worse. What Hightower was his sister going to be betrothed to? It must've been either Gunthor or Baelor. If she had survived, she would've been twenty and two now. If his records were correct, they were both married into House Rowan and House Fossoway. 

"You'd think people were able to pull off hiding the female heir of the North and the fact she was carrying a son would've been able to rescue our family- "

Before he could think on it, Jaeron snapped.

"Prince Oberyn, you will not accuse Ser Arthur of neglecting his duty because he did not. He did as he was commanded. We are here to discuss terms for moving forward because I am going to get revenge for what happened. And we won't be able to do that if we're acting like immature children screaming the rules are not fair."

Oberyn stiffened at this as he glared at him, but he cut him off again.

"I know what I am to you, I'm a walking talking reminder that your sister and her children were butchered on Tywin Lannister's orders who sided with Robert Baratheon solely because they were the winning side at the time. But whether you like it or not, Rhaenys and Aegon were my siblings. Siblings I will never know. I won't know what they sounded like, I'll never know what they looked like, I won't know their personalities. But I can get justice for them, but to do so I'm going to need all the help I can get. I'm not going to be dumb and ask you to swear to me or anything, but right now your choices are limited. Either me, or Stannis. I didn't even know myself of who I was until a little under a year ago. My mother made my uncle swear that he would not speak a word of it until my sixteenth name-day. I've accepted who I am now. Rights of succession puts me as first in line even if I want nothing to do with a crown. But I will tell you this, if either of them survived, I would've happily denounced myself of the titles if Aegon had children of his own. But he didn't, because he was a baby when the Mountain threw him against a wall and cracking his skull open like a duck egg. It sickens me that Gregor Clegane and Amory Lorch were rewarded for their 'services', and I will guarantee that when we corner them, they will be tortured without mercy before being killed. I'm thinking in the same fashion for poetic justice."

He stopped in his rant at this, noticing he was breathing hard as he'd barely breathed whilst he was getting it all out. Arthur was looking to him in a mixture of shock and awe, but the other two were still as silent as a statue. But he did note they didn't seem as angry as before.

"I will be making the claim soon, certainly before the end of the year. And I will tell you this, the Kingdoms are not ready for what is about to happen. Especially because I have two dragons which are almost large enough to be mounted."

It probably wasn't a good idea to confirm that out aloud, but it had the desired effect. Both Doran's and Oberyn's eyes widening ever so slightly. Catching the thinly veiled threat. Despite their link to one another, it was now made clear he wasn't going to be giving free passes.

"We won't be joining no Baratheon claim, that I will tell you. But I cannot promise to back you either. You've already pointed out our reasoning. Dorne will remain neutral during the war."

Hours had passed since then, and once they were on their own, Arthur turned to him in anger.

"You should not have made them aware of Rhaegon and Lyrax, you know that? Threatening the Prince's of Dorne, we want them on our side Jaeron!"

"I know that Ser. I admit it was a dumb thing to do, but I will figure something out. We did promise not to lie to one another, didn't we?"

The older was still furious with him, but he simply pinched his nose before beginning to head outside. The brothers had asked for people to escort them to the town as they wouldn't know their way around Sunspear. On the way down though, he got a funny feeling, and from the way Arthur paused, he knew he had a similar sensation. Both turned to look down a corridor and they saw a flash of two people with dark blue hair. Probably Tyroshi considering they were known for dyeing their hair in numerous colours. One seemed to be of an age with Arthur, perhaps a few years younger, but the other appeared to be his age. Jaeron quickly shook the thoughts from his head before they made their way back to the inn they were staying in. On the morrow, he would be travelling back to Greywater Watch.


	24. XXIII

Kinvara I

Visions were almost terrifying, solely down to the fact that they weren't wholly accurate and required a lot of interpretation. Few people were be able to pick them apart, it took years of training to get to a point where it was easy to tell. Kinvara had been practising for decades now, and she was sure she had learned her craft well. When she had been sold by her father when she was young to pay off her parents huge debt to the Red Temple, she was so young that she could not recall anything of her life before coming here as a follower, only how she had gotten here.

The Red Temple of Volantis was her home, had been for a very long time. She had studied for more than one hundred years before being deemed worthy enough to be trained in the art of the flames, and she had trained equally for the same length of time. Now, all she had to do was look into a flame for a split second to see what was going on. Could imagine any place on the map and could see what was happening there. But lately, the visions had been muddled.

Their God was an enemy of the other true God. The only two Gods that mattered. One locked away in the northernmost parts of the Lands of Always Winter where their cell was beginning to slowly melt- it would only be a matter of time before they were let loose. Some of their minions were already roaming, and she could see bands of people combining into one massive force to prepare. But they would fail, that much was known. Much of the world has forgotten what had happened those dreaded few years where the sun didn't even rise above the horizon and to the point that some people's blood literally froze within them it had gotten that cold. Much less of how it had ended. Azor Ahai driving a flaming sword still dripping in the blood of Nissa Nissa into the heart of the King of the Night- the chosen champion of the Great Other.

With this simple act, the Children were able to extract the dragonglass shard which was laced with spells and in doing so, entrap the soul of the monster within, burying it deep in a place only they had access to. Now, only a handful of Children remained in the world, and without the location known, there was no way to be able to set up more entrapments. Now, it's a waiting game. She walked over to one of the torches aligning the walls of her personal chambers within the Temple, staring deeply as the red and orange danced together merrily. Waiting on images to appear to find out what was happening in the world.

The first thing saw was a pride of lions running through a large field, meeting with another pride of lions in the open. One was larger than the rest, staring down at the cubs like it were judging them. Except, they weren't exactly cubs. Two were fully grown, a lioness and a lion, and the third was much smaller than the other two. The lioness roared back only for the larger one to let out a much louder roar and for her to step back in insult before running off into the wilderness. The sun was shining bright on their fur, fur so bright and shiny it looked like the worlds most polished gold. Then, the scene changed.

What was previously an open field was now a river, and she could see the smallest swimming around. The other three were nowhere to be seen. Suddenly, the animal was dragged under for a few minutes before escaping and running off, and she could see the trout almost glaring at it in response. Following after the beast and soon coming across a cage that appeared to be six feet square, just enough for someone to be locked inside. But it wasn't a person inside, it was a wolf. A wolf with its pup beside it, the other lions staring inside awaiting on the cage to be opened so they could pounce on their pray. The wolf was taking care to hide the pup with one of its legs, making sure its head was turned against its fur, clearly protecting the babe from what lay out there. 

Now, there was a lion inside a cage and not the other way around, with a large wolf staring in at it, not saying a single word. Simply staring into it with bright blue eyes, dark grey fur laced with a reddish brown almost blending in with the darkening night. Then another wolf walked up, with fur as bright as fresh snow with eyes the colour of the ripest strawberries in existence, standing a little taller than its litter mate. The lion backed off a little only for a loud roar to shake the ground which caused it to stop what it was doing as it looked around in confusion. Turning around to find the source of the noise, looking into the forest behind the cage and yelping in panic, the wolves still saying nothing at what was occurring.

Not long after, high walls of red bricks appeared. An animal she could not place carrying a bright red egg on its back as it ran through tunnels underground before coming to a clearing, meeting someone at a boat and handing the egg over for the person to place another egg on their back before running back into the castle. To this egg being thrown against a mountain and cracking open to reveal nought but blood, another egg being forcefully cracked open with a large blade. The remnants being presented at the hooves of a large black stag with a golden crown atop its head, the largest lion standing nearby with its head held high, a spear falling to the ground broken in half beside the eggs, and the room so dark it was as if the sun had not risen. 

The red egg appeared again, in the arms of someone- the first person she had seen in this vision- taking it into a large house on the coastline. Walking over to a chest and opening it to reveal a black egg, quickly switching the two around. Then said person stared at a glass case with a stone hand within before saying something before lifting the crate and throwing it out the window into the waves below. One more scene change occurred after this, being in the snow right in front of a massive castle. One she knew to be Winterfell, the heart of the North. Where Azor Ahai had been raised all those years before, where Brandon the Builder had been raised before building structures still standing thousands of years later leaving no knowledge on how he did so. She could see the ground shaking surrounding the castle which soon broke apart, a dragon emerging from underneath the keep with scales such a bright silver it almost blinded her when the light hit against them. 

"Priestess, please come."

She blinked a few times before facing Benerro, one of the oldest and most accomplished Priests there was in the Red Temple. Bowing her head in submission and following him into a council room where many of them were amassed. Bright red hair, red eyes, red clothing, red lips, all showing they were followers of the true God.

"The time is nearing, we need to start preparing. We need to whittle down all possible people who can be Azor Ahai and Nissa Nissa, and some of us need to go to guard said people."

It wasn't long before someone stepped into the room, catching their eyes as they weren't a follower. This was made obvious from the black and gold mask covering their face- a mark of the Shadowbinders from Asshai. A form of magic even they didn't dare interfere with which was something in of itself. 

"Soon a time will come. Where a dragon will meet a clothed dragon unaware they are a clothed dragon, trouts will fight for dominance, lions will team up to keep semblance, and a dragon wolf will emerge from the darkest tunnel from its imprisonment. A suns son will travel to meet a dragon, a rose will sit atop a lion, sea dragons will combine with land dragons, and wolves will scatter."

Their voice was obviously female, and had an accent which was mostly Westerosi with a slight tinge of an Asshai'i accent. Something they all knew very well as they had trained in Asshai themselves and were well acquainted with it. 

"One wolf will go farther north than anyone has been for many years and will meet a withering dragon. One will travel south. One will travel north. Two will remain where they are. And the last will be whisked off in the dark. A crowned stag will fall, a burning stag will stake a claim over cubs where the lioness will bite back in protection of her brood. And in amongst all of this, Azor Ahai and Nissa Nissa will be reborn."

They mumbled quietly to themselves, thinking hard on what she had seen in the flames not that long ago. It correlated, and it made her wonder if the Shadowbinder had done something for her to see what she had seen. Twirling long red hair on one of her slender fingers.

"How long will it take for them to be reborn?"

Benerro asked the question, all of them turning to face the mysterious woman whom only now noticed was wearing a ruby red necklace. One much alike their own which preserved their youthful appearance despite being hundreds of years old. 

"A crowned stag will fall, a wolf will be captured. A burning stag will gather allies whilst the young stag prances through a field of roses. The swamps will open to reveal a truth which will shatter the realm. A hatchling will not come into the world, a horse falling too. From there, dragons will emerge from the flames. When this happens, they will be reborn."

The woman walked over to one of the flames, allowing her fingers to dance around inside them causing them all to give her a stunned look. They had studied the flames for centuries and none of them could do that. 

"I shall be travelling to Qarth where if the visions are correct, one will be by the end of the year. They share blood with one another alongside three others including myself, but I can only protect one. Who can I trust to watch over the other?"

If they weren't shocked before, they sure were now. They shared blood with her? Was this woman a descendent of either Azor Ahai or Nissa Nissa? Possible, but this was going back numerous thousands of years. Very few families keep records going back that far. That was when she reached up to pull something from her eyes. One eye such a dark blue it was almost black- the other a twinkling green which contrasted strongly against her icy complexion that just peeked out of the mask. Shadowbinders masks were made to fit a face specifically which allowed Kinvara to guess her features. High cheekbones, slim nose, slight chin, face as a whole slim but with a strong heart shape. Features common to those of the blood of Valyria. She reached under the mask to pull out long silver-gold in loose curls. 

"You're supposed to be dead-"

She let out a laugh at this before tucking her hair back into the material.

"I think you of all people should know that rubies have magical properties, Benerro. It is not only the Red Priests and Priestesses who command the power to live for centuries and not age. I have simply been biding my time. The other has already done his part. It ended in him being exiled, but he done his job, and now he is fading away after becoming one with a Weirwood network in the far north. Patiently waiting on the right time to strike."

She was confused, not knowing what this meant. It seemed she wasn't the only one as some were looking at the few who had recognised who that was blanched in understanding. 

"Benerro, who was that woman?"

He looked to his feet and gulped loudly, looking directly into the flame in the centre of their ring, eyes glinting in the dim lighting provided from the element.

"Someone believed to be gone decades ago."

Catelyn IV

The day had finally come. It had been a few days but Lysa had finally agreed to give Tyrion a trial. It would probably be a few days too late but being late was better than doing nothing at all. Nerves were eating her up inside because she knew her sister despised being talked back to, which meant this was going to be a very unfair trial. Despite her anger bubbling up inside of her, right now she was in her sisters castle and therefore had to follow her rules. Even if she hated them.

Brynden had been coming to her room every day to catch up. It had been a long time since she had last saw her uncle considering she lived in Winterfell and he close to the Eyrie. Relatively close to one another, but not close enough that either was easy to get to. Even now, blisters were forming on the insides of her legs from how fast and hard she had ridden to get here on time. Luckily, Hoster's men had not yet arrived which gave them plenty of wiggle room. Lysa's words spinning around in her head, trying to make sense of them all.

Lysa had told her someone had saw Tywin purchasing Tears of Lys. A poison that had no taste, no scent, and left no visible traces. How had she known the poison in question used? If the roles were switched and someone had told her they had seen the head of House Lannister purchasing it, she would've come to the same conclusion too. But Lysa was not her, and she was not Lysa. The younger regularly skipped lessons and had showed not to be the smartest person in the book. Remembering once where Edmure had painted her jewellery box and put it somewhere new in her room when they were children, and she had burst out crying that someone had stolen it. It wasn't like he had camouflaged it or anything, he had moved it to another desk and it stuck out like a sore thumb against the oak.

Something wasn't adding up, and Catelyn hoped it would come to fruition today. Because if it didn't, it was only going to make the coming months even harder. She was trying to hold off a war, but thanks to her sisters impatience and jumping to conclusions, it is on the horizon. All it takes is the final thread on the string to snap for it all to come crashing down on them. She had been given a dark green dress with black trimming and a few golden designs sewed in. It was much different to the gowns she had worn in Winterfell where there was a layer of fur always sewn in underneath to keep warm in the freezing temperatures. There was no need to do so in the Vale. It was odd to feel plain velvet against her skin directly again, but it was welcoming.

That morning she had spent sewing a few patterns, glad that her sister at least remembered one of her favourite hobbies. Something she was always doing with Sansa and hoped desperately one day Arya would do so too- although she highly doubted it. Especially the older she got where she was only getting wilder. It had made Ned chuckle, and he had remarked plenty of times that if his own sister had survived, they would've been joined at the hip. He didn't speak about her much, and any time her name was brought up he closed in on himself. By now, she had gotten to the point of if he wanted to talk about her, he would do so. It took years into their marriage before he opened up on her. Of how she was always sneaking in the nooks and crannies of the castle and often snuck out of lessons to grab a blunted sword and join in on their training with Ser Rodrik.

"My Lady, you have been summoned. I shall escort you."

She turned her head up to face one of the guards before putting down the wooden ring with fabric after tucking her needle away. Despite having been here for a few days now, she still did not know her way to the centre of the castle from the room she had been given. It was practically a maze when you got to the portion which was built within the mountain it was situated upon. It was a calm day outside, the sky a shockingly bright blue and not a single cloud adorning it, sun shining bright from above and bouncing off the mist surrounding the area they were at which created an almost blinding effect. 

Ned talked often of his time at the Eyrie. Of how at night the wind entering the castle created a soft whistling noise that was pleasant to fall asleep to. The soft breeze constantly there which reminded him of the Northern air considering it was rather humid in the Vale despite not being that southern. Dozens of flowers that were freshly picked every morning in pots aligning the white stone walls always arranged to appear like a rainbow to show off the story of the castle. Winterfell wasn't the prettiest castle to look at, but it certainly held a majesty to it. Riverrun was much the same considering it was build on a tiny island which meant their only option was to build up. But the Eyrie was beautiful to look upon. 

The room was already filled with dozens of people, clearly wanting to see the show. Her sister was sat atop the high chair with her son seated on her lap which momentarily shocked her. If she was caught holding court with either of her children on her lap, she was asking to be laughed at. But what surprised her the most was that it was Lysa seated in the chair and not Robyn. Despite his age, he was the Lord Paramount of the Vale, and he couldn't rely on his mother forever. Perhaps she could convince her sister to foster him, but she doubted that would go over well. Steadily, she walked up the steps to stand beside her uncle whose lips were pressed in a tight line as he looked down on them all, clearly not wanting to be here.

"This whole thing is a shambles."

He'd whispered the words, but her trained ears had picked it up as she nodded a little to confirm she thought the same. What had Tyrion Lannister been doing in the Vale anyway? The last she heard from him was that he was travelling down the Kings Road back to Kings Landing. Had he stopped off halfway and decided to go exploring? Possible, she'd heard from numerous people the dwarf had a mind much alike his fathers and an even keener mind for his books. When he was in Winterfell, he'd either been feasting, drinking, whoring, or reading. Nothing else. Her stomach was practically eating itself now but she kept her face composed as was become a Lady.

"Bring the prisoner in."

Someone left the room now to head down to the dungeons- or the sky cells. The famous cells which were built to have only three walls so one side was always open to the outdoors, with slanted floors to top it all off. Thousands of people had fallen to their deaths this way, had been in such a deep sleep and had simply rolled over which had them at an angle where they would spin too fast and wouldn't be able to stop themselves before they were tumbling to the rocky ground below. From where she stood, she could hear her nephew boasting of how he was going to 'make the bad man fly'. Clearly she had put the thought into her young sons mind that it was Tyrion who had killed Jon, and rightfully so, he was wanting revenge. Two people walked in now with a chained dwarf between them, both with wide grins on their faces as he was pushed into the centre. It made her want to groan, way to rub salt in an already open wound Lysa...

"Tyrion Lannister, you have been brought before us for the charge of murder, do you wish to admit the charge or deny the charge?"

Now, she almost winced, and she could tell her uncle was the same. What was she doing? Not addressing someone by their title was one of the biggest insults there was, and Lannister's were known to not take a single slight. 

"Aye, I admit it."

His voice was gruff, and his beard had grown to be an itchy point. Her eyebrows creased a little at the admittance and she caught her nephew bouncing on his mothers lap in excitement. Her sister tilting her head a little to the side too before nodding to someone on the ground. She watched as they walked over to a dial and begin moving it, her gut dropping as the famous moon door opened up. Revealing the sky underneath alongside the numerous jagged rocks that lay at the bottom. He was pushed over a little but he laughed loudly.

"Nice way to start a trial. I said I admit to murder but not who I murdered. Surely you're not that eager to get rid of me, my Lady. I thought my presence was rather enjoyable."

Brynden snorted a little at the retort, and she had to fight it back as well. Clearly this man was his father's son when it came to a sharp tongue. Even in the North, it was common knowledge Tyrion was the most alike their father, and clearly he was putting that to good use. Robyn made a sulking noise as he stopped his bouncing to glare at the small man in the centre of the room who was about to be pushed to his death. Her sisters lips curling in on themselves in anger. She had never been good at hiding her expressions despite her numerous lessons in doing so since they were nought but babes.

"Who do you confess to murdering then? You are on trial for the murder of my husband Jon Arryn. We have word from a verified source your father tasked you in doing so-"

"Which then makes my father the murderer and me the scapegoat. Can't have it both ways, Lady Arryn."

This made her sister fume even more, her face beginning to get red. She opened her mouth to say something but Tyrion cut her off.

"I wish to confess."

If Catelyn didn't feel dread before, she certainly did now. His body language spoke of someone who felt no guilt or remorse, but she did catch the small scoff that came onto his face as he said the scapegoat part. Meaning he either found it insulting, or stupid. Her uncles words coming into her mind from when they had cornered her sister. Tywin would not risk his heir whilst his golden son still wore the white cloak of the Kingsguard, and the Kingsguard was for life. Understanding rushed over her now as she realised that Tyrion couldn't have done it. He had been in Casterly Rock when they had travelled North after the Hand had died. There was no plausible way he could've gotten to the capital then back to there in such little time. Even if he had, it would've been common knowledge he had been in the capital because everyone knew of the deformed Lannister. 

"You wish to confess your crimes?"

Robyn had now resigned to annoyingly tapping his tourney sword against the large chair, clearly bored of this. Gods, this was embarrassing. 

"Yes, my Lady."

Lysa looked to her son with a tiny grin now, her blue eyes flashing maliciously beneath the ocean shade.

"The sky cells always help. Speak, Imp."

Fucking hell Lysa! What in seven hells were you doing?! She'd already insulted him, and now she was doing even more so? Had she ever listened in on any of her court lessons? She slid over on the large chair to leave enough space for her son to climb off her lap and tuck in beside her, practically having to squish in to the tiny space. Aye, it was true people referred to him as the Imp, but openly in court in front of people? She had managed to talk her sister out of killing him and instead trial him which should've been enough to placate Tywin, but clearly she was desperate for revenge and didn't want to wait. Jaeron was going to be furious when he found out. He wasn't ready to make the step yet, but if this farce carries on he's going to need to come forward a lot sooner than he wants to. 

"Meet your gods as an honest man."

It didn't miss her sensitive ears the emphasis she put on the word honest, and from the way Tyrion's eyebrow quirked meant he had noticed this too. He looked to the ground before letting out a long sigh. Clearly for effect. What was he planning?

"Where do I begin, my Lords and Ladies? I'm a vile man, I confess it. My crimes and sins are beyond counting. I have lied and I have cheated. I have gambled and I have whored. I'm not particularly good at violence but I'm good at convincing others to do violence for me."

Immediately, she knew what he was playing at. Getting people to hate him so when he gets to the point, no one is going to be shocked. A tactic only the most masterful manipulators use. 

"You want specifics, I suppose?"

It went quiet for a few seconds as he eyed Robyn with a scared expression, portraying his inner plans with his outer appearance. Something that would fool a lot of people but she was no fool, she saw right through it. 

"When I was seven, I saw a servant girl bathing in the river. I stole her robe and she was forced to return to the castle naked and in tears. I close my eyes and I can still see her tits bouncing. When I was ten, I stuffed my uncle Kevan's boots with goat shit. When confronted with my crime I blamed a squire. The poor boy was flogged and I escaped justice. When I was twelve, I milked my eel into a pot of stew and I made them cry into the stew which I believe my wonderful sister ate- at least, I hope she did. I once brought a jackass and a honeycomb into a brothel-"

"Silence!"

Lysa's single word rang through the room louder than a bell of surrender. The few people who had been snickering as the dwarf continued with his stories immediately stopping in what they were doing to put on blank faces once more. Her sisters face was almost as red as her hair now.

"What happened next?"

If it weren't for the severity of the situation, she would've laughed at her nephews question. But now was not the time to laugh or jape. 

"What do you think you are doing?"

She spoke each word of that sentence clipped, almost like she was straining herself to say anything to the man. Clearly, her hatred ran deep for the dwarf. Her top half bent forward ever so slightly that from where everyone else was stood, wouldn't have noticed it. But she could see it, and she knew that one bad move from the Lannister would have her sister attacking him. 

"Confessing my crimes? That's what you brought me here to do, was it not?"

Lysa had a vein beginning to pop in her neck, and Catelyn knew she had to step in before this turned uglier.

"Lord Tyrion, you are accused of carrying out your father's order to poison Lord Jon Arryn."

"Well, I'm very sorry. I don't know anything about that."

That was what she had feared, and what she had realised herself. One of the things her father had trained her mercilessly on was how to tell if someone was lying. And she could tell from the way he spoke and his body language and the fact he didn't break eye contact once that he wasn't lying. 

"You've had your little joke. I trust you enjoyed it. Mord, take him back to the dungeon, this time find him a smaller cell with a steeper floor-"

"Is this how justice is done in the Vale? You accuse me of crimes, I deny them. So you throw me into a cell to freeze and starve? Where is the King's Justice? I am accused and I demand a fair trial. This is not a fair trial-"

"You have been tried and you have been found guilty-"

"By who? No judgement has been passed yet."

Ouch, he'd gotten her there. Lysa stepped back a little as she clearly realised this too but wasn't about to stop. Why was she so desperate to have him killed? 

"My son is Lord Paramount of the Vale-"

"Pardon me, my Lady. I thought one had to be sixteen to officially be such? Therefore he should have someone ruling in his stead and him shadowing. I am guessing it is yourself doing so? If it is, I weep for the Vale."

And now the threats were happening. It was only a matter of time before they began to fall from the Lannister's mouth.

"It is clear I won't get justice here, but I will get it. I will let the gods decide. I demand a trial by combat."

The silence that followed was such that if a pen was dropped, it would echo loudly. If Lysa wasn't furious beforehand, she certainly was now. But due to custom, if a trial by combat was demanded, it had to carried out. 

"We will adjourn and meet again within the hour. The trial by combat will commence then."

Mord reached forward to shackle Tyrion once again as everyone left the room. Once it was only them in the room, Catelyn wasted no time in walking over to her sister and smacking her across the face.

"What are you playing at?! You're starting a war here idiot!"

"Leave my mother alone!"

Brynden stepped between her and the mother and son, knowing a huge fight was about to break out. It was nothing new with them, he'd had to do so since they were little girls. 

"You dare to lay a hand on me?! I am Lady of the Vale-"

"And I am Lady of the North which last I checked is considerably larger than your Kingdom."

Ocean eyes flashed again at this, clearly not liking the fact she had a better political position than she did. 

"Cat's right Lysa. You already took Tyrion and sent ravens to every bloody Paramount in Westeros accusing him of murdering your husband when you have little to no evidence. Then you put him in the sky cells where he could've fallen to his death. Not only that, you're not giving him a fair trial and are accusing him openly and throwing a tantrum when he is giving valid points-"

"He murdered my husband!"

Brynden rolled his eyes at this in exasperation.

"Are you listening to yourself, Lysa?! Who is Lord Tywin's only heir?"

She went quiet at this.

"I thought so. Now give up on this revenge you are desperate to get. Because if you don't, you're going to have the Eyrie and Riverrun be repeats of Castamere."

Catelyn winced at those words. She didn't want to say it aloud, but he was right. The lion had trapped and drowned hundreds of people solely because Lady Ellyn Reyne was desperate to become Lady of Casterly Rock only for it to backfire. And out of spite, did not pay taxes to Tytos who was known to be pious. She dreaded what the same man would do if his heir was murdered unjustly.

"Mummy, I want to see the bad man fly."

Lysa cradled her sons head at this, glaring at the other two with all the hatred she could muster.

"He will, my boy. We will get justice for your father."

Now, her uncle threw his arms up in disgust at her actions before walking away, her following behind equally shocked at the display. 

"I always thought you were the one to inherit my brother's stubbornness. I now stand corrected."

A small snort left her at this as she took a small cup filled with water, gulping it down quickly to try and calm herself down. There was a table filled with an array of cheeses, meats, and fruits. Taking a small amount to curb her hunger and nothing else. It only seemed like minutes had passed before they were summoned back. She let out a long sigh as they made their way back to where they were, noticing now that Lysa had a few guards surrounding her. The dwarf was matched back in and she groaned a little as she saw the purple bruise on his eye confirming he had been punched by someone. She's digging an even bigger hole for them all with her actions. One that was beginning to get increasingly more difficult to get out of.

"Lord Tyrion, you have asked for a trial by combat. Ser Vardis has agreed to be my champion, one of the best swords in the Vale. As you are aware with trials by combat, the only way for them to stop is by confession, one kills the other, or the judge calls for it to end. State your champion."

Tyrion looked around everyone, thinking long and hard about who would be best to do so. He must've noticed he was outnumbered because all these men were loyal to her sister. She didn't doubt whoever was chosen would allow themselves to be killed to deem it proof.

"I'll fight for the dwarf."

The man who walked forward wasn't wearing any crests, nor was he wearing any armour. If she had to guess, she would've thought he was just someone tagging along.

"State your name, Lord-"

"Save your courtesies, my Lady. I'm not a Lord. just a lowly sellsword who likes to poke his nose in drama."

The man was carrying himself with an air of arrogance and confidence combined. Which meant one of two things. Either he was an expert with fighting which was a fair possibility considering he was a sellsword. Or he thought of himself as better than he was and was making up for his lacking with his attitude. Tyrion smirked a little at the man as he was led to the side as the knight stepped into the area around the still opened moon door. Without any warning, the sellsword swung with a furious pace, the Knight clearly surprised by this but blocking the attack easily. At first, it seemed to be a standard honourable fight, but the second the other champion pushed him into one of the many pillars, it became both a sword fight and a fist fight. Neither were giving ground. The crowd having to separate multiple times to give them space so they wouldn't be hit too. 

Eventually, they both managed to make it to the centre of the room again, both holding one another in a stance about to throw the other through the moon door. Catelyn's breath hitched at this because if both of them died it would mean a second trial, and she knew that would seal the dwarf's death. This was the only chance there was for him to walk free from this madness, and to say she was terrified was an understatement. She was gnawing away on the inside of her lip and she bit down hard as the sellsword was able to pry the Knight's sword from them, both still struggling to push one another off the edge. But then he twisted, and from the grip he had took the Knight with him, which locked him into an awkward position. He raised his sword and placed it against his neck before looking to her sister, silently asking if she was going to call it off. Instead, her sister yelled out for Ser Vardis to fight back and do her proud. The Knight tried to get out of the grip but this only led to him wincing in discomfort as his arms tightened even more. Upon realising she wasn't going to call it off, the sellsword closed his eyes before thrusting the sword at an angle that went from his shoulder down into his heart. The Knight ceased movement at this as he was thrown out of the moon door, his blood raining down on the rocky ground below. The sellsword was breathing hard as he quickly cleaned the sword before sheathing it, walking over to the dwarf.

"Can we make him fly now?"

Now, she chanced a look at her sister. She looked like she had been sucking on the sourest lemon from Dorne, but she knew what had happened. In the eyes of the Seven, Tyrion was innocent. To spit on the Seven's ruling was one of the worst sins in their faith. 

"The gods have deemed the Imp innocent. Have him escorted from the Eyrie by nightfall-"

"I want to make him fly!"

Bloody hell, how was she raising this child? No manners, and still hiding under his mother's skirts.

"I will leave by nightfall sister, I shall escort Lord Tyrion out myself and depart at the Kings Road."


	25. XXIV

Jaeron XX

The ship back to Greywater Watch felt like it was taking months on end. When in reality, it would only take about a week at most. The ship they had been provided at Starfall was one of the fastest they had, and this was made obvious as they passed the nearby peninsula beside Sunspear within a couple of hours. He had only been in the castle that had stood for who knows how long for about the same amount of time, but that felt quick in comparison. However, when they passed the eastern shore of the Stormland's, it had seemed like days had passed. 

They had mostly avoided the Stepstones which was probably a good thing considering their reputation. Numerous pirates fought there, and multiple people style themselves rulers of the isles in question. Where if the Northern tales were true, the Children had broken the arm of Dorne to stop the First Men coming through as his ancestors waged their bloody war against the ancient creature now long extinct. Along the way, they passed places he'd only ever read about, and he would be lying if he said he didn't feel like a giddy child.

Tarth- nicknamed the sapphire isle due to the blue of its waters. A statement that was proven true as at times Jaeron could've sworn he could see the bottom of the sea. Multiple creatures underneath he had only ever seen drawings of in books. Numerous fish, sea snakes (or eels as Arthur called them, stating on the side they apparently tasted good), starfish, jellyfish. The list went on and on and he felt like a little child being told he could have as many sweets as he liked. Around the coast until they were at the Crownland's, the Blackwater Bay opening far and wide. It stunned him that the capital lay there, as did the famous Red Keep and the even more notorious Iron Throne. Despite wanting nothing to do with a crown, he couldn't deny he was beginning to get angsty about it. 

But it was when they passed two large isles that he was left awed. A part of him had wanted to ask the captain to dock so he could walk around Driftmark and Dragonstone, but he had managed to bite his tongue. He was only meant to go to Starfall, and he knew he was going to be in for an earful from Howland for going off to Sunspear to broker talks with the Martell's. Something he was not looking forward to. Howland was calm in nature, but he had found out the hard way those who were terrifyingly calm were a lot scarier than someone who was yelling at oneself. Eddard was much the same as him, and he understood why they had become such firm friends at Harrenhal, but the man he called father did have a bite when he was angry. Wolf blood does run strong in the Stark's, but it was rare to see it from some of them. 

However, the captain did grant him one boon. By sailing around his ancestral Seat so he could see the castle in full view. Just thinking that Stannis Baratheon was currently residing within those walls made him angry. But he couldn't hold much resentment for the man, remembering his aunt's words to him when she had come down to Greywater Watch to speak to him. Family before duty, and duty before honour. Stannis had a duty to his brother who was the Lord Paramount at the time, and this duty compelled him to support the campaign. He wondered where the man's allegiance would lay when he found out the duty he had lost men to protect, had almost starved doing so during a siege led by the Tyrell's, was nothing but a lie? He shook his head to rid himself of the thoughts before taking in the architecture.

The Valyrian's of the Freehold were famous for their use of dragon flame. Hotter than regular flame to the point it melted stone, and they had used this well. Fusing numerous blocks together to create one single large slab of the material which they built the castle from. The stone turning a midnight shade upon being scorched, standing a couple of hundred feet tall with its many towers. Dozens of gargoyles of interesting creatures guarding the walls. Two massive carvings of dragon heads at the entrance. Seeing this made him excited to see his own again alongside Ghost. He hadn't felt like himself since leaving them, and he wondered how much they had grown. The last time he had seen them, the dragons had been larger than horses and Ghost came to his elbows. 

Along the way, they also passed Claw Isle, Gulltown, Runestone, the Fingers. Each one of them igniting a portion of his brain to yearn for more. Wondering what it would be like to go riding through the nearby towns, speak to the people, get to know their ways of life. By the time they reached the Three Sisters, it truly felt like a month had gone by. Every day he would wake up to watch the sunrise, they would break their fast on freshly caught fish from the waters they were sailing on, discuss tactics for an hour or so, and then train. Until his body ached so badly he felt like he could collapse any second. Despite this, Arthur pushed him on and on, and signs were beginning to show with it.

Where he had previously been using his left hand more as a scapegoat in case he got caught off guard with his dominant hand, he was now using it almost to the same extent. Swings still coming off a little underpowered but all in the correct placements. According to his Kingsguard, it should only take a few more weeks to hone in on his strength with that side. Then every night, he would watch the sun set below the horizon. When the mainland came into his sight again, he had been glad. Despite being on ships a few times in the last few weeks, Jaeron had decided he hated being on them. It took him nearly three days to find his sea legs every time and he wondered how people could do this all the time. Remembering Theon constantly talking about how he was on a ship from the moment he could walk. Well, until his father had rebelled against the other Kingdom's and lost all his other sons in the process. 

By now, Theon would be well on his way to Driftmark, but he knew he was not going to be happy about it. Hopefully Robb was able to play off the ruse well. He'd never been the best liar, and the heir of the Iron Islands was close to him when they were children. The younger always having a wary feeling about him but Robb always brushed him off on it. 

"We will be docking at Drasea within the hour. You had best get ready, Marlon and Leron."

It was weird hearing that name again. And he had been annoyed about smearing that brown paste through his hair once more, but they need to remain on the low. Arthur Dayne was a very well known face, a face everyone apart from a select few believed to have fallen seventeen years prior. There weren't many belongings which he was glad about, checking on their horses below deck to make sure they weren't spooked or anything. Despite not being on deck, he could feel the ship docking and it momentarily caused him to lose his balance. Quickly untying both animals and leading them up so they could step onto the land. The moment his foot touched the grass, his head felt like it was spinning. 

"How far away are we, Ser?"

Arthur fixed the reigns on his own mount before they both climbed on, looking to the young man beside him he had sworn to be his King.

"An hour I'd say. Drasea is one of the main trading towns of the Neck. It's where Torghen gets his bows from. Wouldn't surprise me if we bump into him actually."

He smiled a little at this, oddly excited to see the man again. He wouldn't go as far as to say they were friends, but they got along well and he did offer sound advice. Plus, he was a formidable opponent when it came to sparring. Something he loved. There is no way to improve if oneself is constantly kept to doing the same task. All a person does then is hone in on one particular skill and nothing else. A few people turned to look at them, some waving at Arthur as they recognised him. Both had stopped at a nearby stream to rinse the brown paste from their hair which he was happy about because it stank. If they were going to allude to having different hair colours they may as well just dye it. It wasn't uncommon to do so, remembering Wylla Manderly and her bright green hair. 

Like Arthur had said, they had soon reached one of the piers where a boat was waiting, knowing Jojen had probably warged in to his animal to be on the lookout for them. Someone came up to take their mounts before making the short trip to the island the castle was situated on. A feeling of home sinking in for him. Winterfell would always be his home, but Greywater Watch was beginning to feel like one too after spending so many months here. Howland and Jyana were awaiting them on the shores, the Lord giving him a stern glare but he refused to break in front of him. Keeping his face completely blank like he had taught him. From the tiny smile on the others face, he knew he was glad he had mastered that part. It took him weeks to train him to be able to do so. Stepping on to the island in question and a feeling overcame him, almost causing him to topple over. Almost feeling like there was a wave surging through him. Arthur gave him a weird look at this but before he could think he was running. 

Howland simply shook his head in amusement at him, probably knowing what it was already with his green sight. He could hear Arthur mumbling curses underneath his breath as he tried to keep up with him. It was probably an amusing sight. One of the most recognisable Knight's chasing after someone only seventeen name-days. Quickly allowing the drawbridge to come down to connect to the opposite island and making his way over there. That feeling came back in full force again but this time he felt like his entire body was tingling. What was this? He soon got his answer as he made his way to the large clearing behind the abandoned storehouse where they had remained when they were still hatchlings. Feeling air beating down on him from above. His gaze turning towards the sky and being shocked over just how large they had gotten. They'd been much larger than horses the last time he had seen them which was two months ago now. But now, they were probably the size of Winterfell's courtyard. 

Bright silver came into his line of vision first, the sunlight from above hitting off them and lighting up the trees surrounding him. Deep blue following not long after. When they landed, the ground shook slightly as he took them both in. Their horns had fully grown in now, and there were spikes aligning their spines that had only been stubs coming out of the skin when he had left. Claws being almost a foot in length and he could see just how sharp they were. Jaeron didn't turn to look at Arthur once, being too entranced by the view in front of him as he steadily reached a hand out. Rhaegon moved his large head over to it, he could feel the heat coming from him. Fire made flesh, something his ancestors had always referred to them as. Only now spotting swirls of black on his face too which he was sure had not been there before. And when his hand finally touched the dragons snout, he felt the pieces click into place. That feeling growing stronger until he felt like he was floating himself. It didn't last for long though as both leaped into the sky again to go wherever they were before. Looking to the ground, then to his hand, and finally turning back to face Arthur, seeing the Reed family there as well. All had wide eyes over what they had just witnessed. 

"Did-"

"He just bonded with me."

He cut off the Knight who now looked as though his eyes were about to burst out of their sockets. The weight of his words didn't sink in straight away but when they did, he paused in his step. Breath beginning to come fast and sharp as fear gripped him in a way it never had before. 

"Come, a raven arrived from your aunt this morning. We haven't opened it yet as we knew you were due to arrive in a couple of hours."

His eyebrows creased slightly before wiping his face of emotion and following the family up. Jojen was once again just staring at him. How did he go so long without needing to blink? It was both impressive and terrifying at the same time. Meera on the other hand was practically skipping in her step over what she had just witnessed. Soon, they were in Howland's quarters, him asking a maid to send for Aurane, only remembering now the man was here. Nerves beginning to enter him at this. The parchment was slid over to him and like Howland said, the seal had not been broken. Catelyn's personal seal on it which was rarely used and confirmed it was definitely her, seeing it had come from the Eyrie. What was she doing in the Eyrie? She should be back in Winterfell by now. He cracked it open to read it, some of his nerves leaving him as he read. The others were waiting with baited breath over what it contained.

"She heard from Varys what her sister done, and she made him aware of what we know about this boy posing as a Blackfyre but not much else on it. Upon hearing that she got off at Maidenpool and rode hard for the Eyrie to get there before her father's men did. Both she and Ser Brynden managed to talk Lady Lysa into allowing a trial and Tyrion has walked away cleared of all charges."

Arthur let out a small sigh of relief at this. This was something that had been playing on their minds for a long time. Neither had much time to think on this though as the door opened and an older man walked in, and anyone would be able to tell who he was. White-silver hair coming to his elbows with a couple parts of it braided to keep it from his face, sharp but delicate facial features, looked much younger than he really was, and with piercing purple eyes. Much alike his own and being a couple of shades lighter than Arthur's. Their eyes connected and he could see the recognition in Aurane's face. He had known his father, had grown up with him since they were young boys. People had told him multiple times by now that he looked a lot like his sire in the face, and from his reaction he knew that was definitely the case. 

"It is wonderful to meet you, your Grace."

He bowed his head lowly in respect, ignoring the way his gut recoiled at the use of the title. Jaeron knew Howland was about to chew him out but he had to remain ahead of him currently.

"Dorne have agreed to stay out of any wars. I didn't expect anything better than this truthfully, but its less armies for the Lannister's to recruit which will help massively. My cousin has already sworn to me as has my aunt, combined that's a force nearing thirty thousand. Combining this with Ser Arthur's House's armies, it's a formidable force. It's not as big, but I have the biggest wildcard of all. Two dragons, one of which has just bonded with me a matter of minutes ago and is large enough to mount now."

Nobody spoke a word after this, knowing what this meant. Ever since they had hatched and he had decided to go for it, he said he wouldn't do so until they were large enough to ride. He placed his hands against the wood and stood as still as he could before saying the fated words.

"It's time we get the truth out with fire and blood."

Eddard VIII

When the raven arrived from the Eyrie, a huge wave of relief overcame him. Anxiety had been working its way into his bones, something that was only amplified as the Queen had been giving him glares the entire time he was here. Had even gone to the extent of trying to have him removed from the small council. At least, until Lord Renly had stated that as Robert's Hand, he had the same amount of power as the King just without the title. Eddard doubted he had ever seen such a level of calm fury before in his life on a person. 

There had still been little to no communication from anyone in his family, and he was getting wary. Something big must be happening for them to be remaining so tight lipped. Robb was never someone who kept things from him, Catelyn even less so other than when they had first wed considering they had barely known one another. But today, good news had come. A scout on the walls confirmed that the King's party was arriving back which he was glad about. Ruling was not his forte, and he wondered why anyone would want to be in such a position of power. Power is such a small word but one that can corrupt the nicest of people if not treaded lightly enough.

Now, he understood why Robert had turned out the way he was now. His height had always been impressive but his bulging muscles had since withered away and replaced with numerous layers of fat. There always being a slight stink coming from him too from places that probably couldn't be cleaned properly. And a miracle if he went longer than a couple of hours without drinking like he had not a care in the world. This was the man he had brought his armies south for to put on the throne, and he was getting more disgusted with his choices as each day went. Especially because he knew it was built on a lie. But the lie had not been uncovered yet, and a part of him didn't want it to be uncovered. 

But it was only a matter of time, especially because Varys knew about Jon. 

He had tossed and turned most nights with the knowledge he had recently pieced together. That the Prince's and Princess were not Robert's meaning he had no heirs. Stannis' silence now making sense, and he knew he had to get Renly in on it. But that was going to be difficult for him to do so considering he was always surrounded by people. The day prior, he had finally managed to do so by asking for him to be sent to the Tower of the Hand, under the guise of amending laws. Something that no one batted an eye over considering he was Master of Laws. It made him wonder at times though, who was holding Storm's End in the brother's absence? Probably Edric, Robert's bastard son, the first of two he openly acknowledged although he did know of others. Remembering the babe named Barra and a certain blacksmith's apprentice. 

When the young Lord had entered, Ned had offered him some wine and opened some of the books which contained some of the laws to keep up the ruse. Making sure the shutters were closed and locking the door behind him which confused the younger slightly but he didn't say anything on it. 

"I know why your brother is refusing to visit, Lord Renly."

He simply hummed as he picked up a peach, biting into the flesh and juices flowing freely down his handsome face, blue eyes sparkling against his pale complexion. 

"That's not difficult to figure out, Lord Hand. Analysing a rock is easier than that. It's about Storm's End-"

"Nay, it is not. It's something a lot more serious, my Lord."

Now, his attention was peaked, clearly noticing the way his voice had dipped and the slight waver in his tone. Looking around for any nooks and crannies for one of the many Lannister spies crawling around the castle like a lion sneaking up on its prey. Renly poured himself a glass of Arbor Gold and crossed his legs, leaning back almost bored.

"It's about the Prince's and Princess."

He scoffed a little at this.

"My Lord, I am fully aware my nephew is rather spoiled but-"

"He's not your nephew. Neither is Tommen, and Myrcella is not your niece."

He paused at this, letting this information sink in. But when it did, he began choking a little on his wine. When he gained his breath once more, wide eyes turned to him, locking with dark grey that was characteristic of the Stark's.

"That's a bold claim, my Lord. What proof do you have?"

Over the next twenty minutes, Eddard told him everything. The younger getting paler and paler as time went on. Once he had finished, he almost thought he was dead he was that pale. But slowly, colour came back onto his face, taking on its usual amused expression. But within those ocean blue eyes, he could see something dancing within. A want, a need, and he had no idea what of. 

"I plan on telling Robert when he comes back from his hunt. I will convince him to take Cersei and Jaime if he can get him and get a confession out of them. But this will anger Tywin beyond belief, even more so than when Aerys rejected the betrothal to Rhaegar and spat in his eye by wedding him to Elia. This makes Stannis heir to the throne, and he will need the backing of his home Kingdom to beat off the Lannister's-"

"I highly doubt people will want Stannis on the throne, Lord Eddard. This is the same man who tried for weeks to have brothels become illegal."

He bit his tongue at this, the sheer audacity to just push aside a better claimant making his blood momentarily boil. Stannis wasn't well liked at all, many people were aware of that. But he was fair, and he was stern in what he felt was right. He shook his head as the memory from the day prior left his mind. Looking around the room in surprise. He'd made sure Sansa and Arya had started packing, his eldest daughter throwing a massive tantrum over it because she didn't want to leave. She loved court, and loved the constant celebrations. She was not going to leave without a fight, and a part of him wanted to tell them what he had found out. Arya had cried a little too as she didn't want to leave Syrio, hence why he had offered Syrio a contract to come to Winterfell too which he had accepted. Stating that he saw her like family now after spending every day with her for so many months now. He was making his way towards the council room to await Robert coming back but this was stalled as he spotted Renly running through the courtyard with a shocked expression. He had barely stopped before saying;

"Ned, it's Robert. A boar-"

He was running back soon after at this, a horrific knotting forming its way into his gut. A boar? For it to have such a strong reaction it must be bad. This was only amplified by the healers running across to where Robert must've entered the castle, Ser Barristan making his way over to confirm what was happening.

"A boar has ripped him open with its tusks. We've managed to draw much of the infection out but I don't think his Grace is going to survive."

Fuck. There goes his plans then. 

"Take me to him."

The elderly Knight nodded lightly out of duty before leading him to the royal quarters. The room they entered was decorated almost to a sickening amount, with gold, red, yellow, and black everywhere. Not even in a pattern, just seemingly scattered throughout. Robert was lying in the bed, Maester Pycelle wrapping a long string of cloth over the open wound. Even from where they were stood, he could smell the rot from it. Gods, how bad was it? He's experienced his fair share of festering wounds but this was a contender for the worst. The Queen was seated by his side, the Prince on his other side almost with a bored expression on his face. Robert nodded to his wife and she left the room, and telling Joffrey and Pycelle to leave as well. Probably not wanting the young boy to see this. Southerners were different to northerners. His people took their children to executions from a young age so that when they came of age they could hold their breakfast in at gruesome sights. Whereas many in the south have never seen a lethal wound until they had been in a battle themselves.

"Ned, come here."

He walked over and took the chair that was previously occupied by the Queen. The stench was so putrid now that he was desperately trying to keep his face still, but from the way Robert's cracked open in a smile he knew he had failed.

"It stinks, I know. I've had to put up with it for days. Bloody pig."

A tiny snort left him at these words, leave it to Robert Baratheon to mellow down the seriousness of something. Slowly, he reached out to pull the cloth back so he could see it for himself, grimacing as it came into view. The tusk had ripped him from naval to nipple, and it was deep. He could see his muscles and some of his ribs underneath the skin.

"Who would've thought eh? The Demon of the Trident taken down by a fucking pig of all things-"

"You're not dead yet-"

Robert simply lowered an eyebrow at this before hissing in pain as Eddard placed the cloth over the wound again, not wanting to look at it any more than he absolutely needed to. 

"You of all people know when a wound is fatal. It'll really be a gift from the Seven if I live until tomorrow."

It went quiet between the old friends after these words, neither knowing what to say but both having a lot they needed to say. Does he tell him? He could, but that would be cruel to tell his dying friend that the children he believed were his own were not and his hated younger brother was his heir. Neither of the Baratheon siblings got along. Robert got everything, Stannis hated him because he gave Renly Storm's End and not him despite being older, and Renly hated them both because he felt like he had been pushed aside considering he was the only one of the three who didn't remember their parents as he was so young. The Stormland's were due for collapse soon, and he hoped it wasn't as catastrophic as he felt it was going to be.

"Ned, get some parchment. I want to write my will out."

Without question, he done just that. An order was an order, and Robert was still his King currently.

"In the name of Robert of the House Baratheon. First of his name, Lord Protector of the realm, the Rhoynar, and the First Men. I hereby command Eddard of House Stark, Warden of the North and Lord of Winterfell, to serve as Lord Regent and protector of the realm upon my death. To rule in my stead until my son Joffrey comes of age."

His eye twitched a little at the last part, his gut now beginning to feel like he was being eaten alive from the inside over what he was keeping from him. Ned hated lying, but he knew he was good at it. Hence why he has been able to hide the truth of Jon for so long. What was he doing now? Last he'd heard he had been in Greywater Watch but he hadn't heard from Howland for a long time. When it came to writing out the last section, he stumbled for a moment before writing 'the rightful heir' instead of 'my son Joffrey'. No one would question that, because it technically was what Robert had asked of him. 

"Ned, I know you hate being in the south, but I trust you to be someone who can hold the Kingdom's for a little more than a year until he comes of age. Send him to Dragonstone to foster under Stannis. If anyone can beat humility into that boy it is him."

He chewed on his tongue a little at that, but managing to keep his face still over what was currently happening. He would not be staying here, he would go to the harbour today to find someone to take them to White Harbour early in the morning. Stannis was of an age to rule already. 

But Stannis isn't next in line.

Those words entered his subconscious, his fingers tightening momentarily over the quill. Jon was too young, and would be seen as the epitome of rebellion. He could be argued as being the cause of the last eighteen years of trouble. War was already imminent, it now even more so. 

"Send for Pycelle to bring some milk of the poppy. And leave me to die in piece."

Eddard nodded before leaving the room, seeing the Maester still waiting outside with a small vial of the liquid which would put the King into a deep sleep. 

"Where is Lord Renly, Grand Maester?"

The old man paused for a second and coughed a few times into his hand.

"He was seen a few minutes ago riding out of the castle alongside Ser Loras Tyrell, Lord Hand. Said he was heading for the docks to make his way to Stannis to tell him the news of his Grace."

Fear ebbed deep within now. Renly had all but made it obvious he didn't want to be anywhere near his other brother yesterday, so why was he heading there now? And with a Tyrell at that? He almost never saw the Tyrell in the capital. So what was he doing? It hit him like a brick and his eyes widened for a moment before making his way to the Tower of the Hand to get his daughters. They needed to be ready to leave at a seconds notice now. Even the tiniest delay would end in all their heads on spikes decorating the walls of Kings Landing. Arya was spinning in her room with her Needle in hand, making a few jabs at invisible enemies as she went. The wild black cat sitting on her bed and giving her an intense glare as she done so. It was a miracle this cat was even still alive. It had to be nearing nineteen by now. When she spotted him, she stopped immediately, seeing the look on his face and understanding something was happening.

"Pack up everything now. I will send someone to collect you and your sister in a few hours."

"What's happening father?"

Her innocence was obvious, and it hurt him massively that it would probably be a matter of days before that innocence was ripped from her root and stem.

"King Robert is dying, Lord Stannis is preparing to make a claim for the throne as we speak. I will not have you here when he is a little more than a day away by ship."

Arya opened her mouth to ask questions but he had already crossed to Sansa's room, seeing her sitting cross legged on her bed with a wooden ring holding fabric, sewing something. He looked around the room and was left shocked that she had packed very little, clearly not understanding the seriousness of everything. 

"Get packing Sansa. We will be leaving in a few hours. The King is dying as we speak and when the news reaches Stannis he will sail here."

He watched as tears filled her eyes and was about to retort but he gave her a sharp glare which got her to shut up. Glancing around the room and grabbing a piece of parchment and a quill to write down what he had found out. He handed it over to her and he watched as her eyes widened in shock before he took it from her and threw it into her fire to destroy the evidence.

"Stannis knows, as does Renly. War is going to happen soon and I will do everything in my power to make sure you and your sister are safe-"

"What about you? Father I-"

"I will be leaving with the two of you. But we cannot do so until it is officially confirmed Robert is dead. Now start packing little wolf."

Sansa was clearly still shocked over what he had found out. Trying to figure out if there was truth to it. If only she knew it was her words that made it click into place for him. He's a golden lion like his mother, and his father too. He watched as she placed her sewing down and pull out one of her suitcases, beginning to fill it up. He made his way into his own room now, noting how bare it was. He had already made preparations a few days ago, had planned to resign and head back to Winterfell, but that was not the case anymore. Hours had passed by now and he knew if there was a time to search for Varys, it was now. If anyone could smuggle them out of the city, it was the spider. It was a risky move to make, but it was one that was necessary. 

It didn't take him long to find the man. His lavender robes and powdered face being obvious in amongst the large group of people in the throne room. The throne itself standing there ominously, nothing short of a monstrosity. He'd had to sit on it a few times when holding court when Robert was away and he knew how uncomfortable it was. Built to deliberately be so by the person who'd ordered it forged under the fiery breath of his monstrous dragon. When the spider spotted him, he signalled him down a corridor and into a room, lifting up a small latch to reveal a staircase to an underground location. It was dark in here, and it appeared either side had been caved in.

"This was the tunnel that Queen Rhaella used to escape with Prince Viserys. She had the few men who were with her dislodge some of the rocks above to seal it off so no one could come after her. A mother's love is a strong thing indeed."

That much Ned knew. 

"You know, it was wonderful to speak to your wife a couple of weeks ago. I'm sure she came to visit you as well."

Ned stopped at these words, looking to the man in shock.

"My wife is in Winterfell-"

"Is she? Last I heard she was in the Eyrie convincing her sister to let Tyrion Lannister free."

He pursed his lips now, he had gotten him there. But Kings Landing? Why was Catelyn in Kings Landing of all places? And why had she not sent him a raven or come to see him or the girls? It must've been a quick thing.

"I'd imagine you were kept out of the loop of what is occurring so I shall fill you in. I know about your secret, Lord Eddard. I must commend you, not many people would take in their nephew when the King is desperate to have all Targaryen's killed-"

"He was a babe, just born when I found him minutes before. Us Stark's protect our pack, and Jon is pack-"

"Except his name isn't Jon, is it? It's Jaeron, correct?"

He bit his lip now, wondering where he was going.

"Tell me why my wife was in the capital, my Lord."

Varys smiled at his words before sitting down on a large stone, not even the tiniest bit scared over what he was currently doing. This man is a master manipulator, and his network of spies was one of the best there was. He doubted there was a network quite as vast as his own.

"Your wife came here after she found out I knew about your nephew. How she found out I am unaware, but she did. Came to speak to me directly on your heirs orders to talk me into not taking a side."

Eddard closed his eyes at this, that did sound like something Catelyn would do. But it was that she had done it without giving him a heads up. He hated being left out of the loop.

"Although, I received a rather insightful report, my Lord. Something I believe very few know about. Your nephew went to Starfall, with a specific Knight at his back. I was under the impression you slay Ser Arthur Dayne in single combat?"

Where was he going with this? Remembering the fight in question as he was desperately trying to get to his sister. His men all taken down until it was only the Knight, him, and Howland remaining. To the Crannogman thrusting a knife into his back and Eddard striking a blow which left him bleeding out on the ground unable to move.

"I did, my Lord. Even to this day I am unsure how I managed to do so-"

"You didn't, that's the thing. Ser Arthur is alive according to my little birds. All are singing the same tune. A young boy around eighteen name-days with the Sword of the Morning travelling from the Neck to Starfall."

The knowledge hadn't even sunk in yet before Varys dealt him the final blow.

"Your nephew has gotten the entirety of men he can get from the Dayne's behind him, and it won't be long until he has the Dondarrion's behind him either as Allyria has become betrothed to Lord Beric a few days ago as you are aware. Last I heard, he was in Sunspear meeting with the Martell's."

Fuck, he was going for it. Deep down he knew he was, but hearing all these intricate and borderline reckless moves confirmed it was. With Stannis preparing to make a claim, and he now knew there was a chance of Renly also doing so, this puts three heirs against one another. All whilst fending off the rage of the old Lion. This was bad. Very bed. 

"I will be confronting the Queen about the truth regarding her children and my intention to back the rightful heir." 

With these words, he waited for only a second before climbing the stairs and heading to his room again. The weight of the knowledge just bestowed upon him crushing him almost. This was too much, and it was way too soon. It felt like hours had passed before there was a knock on the door, Ser Barristan stood there vigilant and as stiff as a board, the dreaded words falling from his lips.

"The King has passed, my Lord."

A\N: That last part pained me to write but I want to keep this as close to canon as possible and not change too much of it, and unfortunately this is what Ned does both book and show.

**Author's Note:**

> So, the reason I have not been overly active on chaotic is because I've been working on this one along with another which I have not yet decided if I will post. I will be aiming to get a new part up every couple of weeks at least although will probably be more often than that. This will be set approximately three months prior to the events in the show and will follow through as it goes on.


End file.
